Imil
by Sunruner
Summary: Exile. It's a scary word, it changes who you are and the only way to find yourself again is to go looking. If his mother's family wouldn't help him with that, then, he'd have to rely on his father's. Amiti-Centric Part 2/3. Amiti/Nowell
1. Arriving

**Coming Home. Time.**

**Welcome! If this is your first time clicking in and have no idea why Amiti is on a boat then you may want to go read Part 1, ****Barai****, accessible from my profile! If not, then that's still fine since certain events from the first story will be recounted here anyways****.**

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_**Imil**_

Arriving

It was cold here, wet too. At least it was wet when the water didn't just freeze on the deck, or his clothes, or his skin.

Changes over the last thirty years had opened up a shipping lane to the place he was going, but the passage was narrow: prone to freezing unexpectedly even during warmer parts of the year. This wasn't one of them: it was autumn. It was already snowing.

_'It's so cold...'_ Was he supposed to be seeing the beauty in the desolation around him? If he looked over the side of the ship Amiti could see pristine chunks of blue ice, hundreds of bergs big and small dotted across thousands of miles of the smooth black water.

It was morning, so the sky was already bright: a blue so faint he didn't really know the name, iced with clouds that looked soft and airy- but still too cold. The snow was like a screen, individual flakes wandering past his eyes and settling on the rail. When he brushed his hand over the thick wood of the Sanan ship, the ice just collected against his white fingers. He wasn't warm enough to melt the flakes with his skin.

Amiti slowly picked himself up from the small part of the deck he had claimed as his own, it was cold trying to sleep out here, but somehow still better than slinking down into the hold where the sailors spent their rare free time. He wasn't sure how long they'd been sailing north, or when they'd last made port, or anything else for that matter. Even his journey to Sana was only a blur of roads and walking. The ship had the serenity of the water, but also the harsh conditions of sea-faring.

His blisters had burst and turned into callouses weeks ago from handling ropes and salt. He'd noticed himself getting thinner over the course of the voyage but had gained some of it back once his body began to accept the assortment of pickled, sometimes spoiled food that was available. Faintly, sometimes, Amiti could remember a harsh conversation he and Eoleo had once had about sailors and drinking. The Pirate King had said it was a rite of passage for every man on a crew, Amiti had disagreed at the time, but now he knew that alcohol was really the only thing that kept you warm sometimes.

At least his place on the ship had been assured for the journey. His psynergy had earned him the original voyage from Tonfon to Belinsk, and after saving one crew-member from nearly drowning, and another from losing the use of his hand, the captain had mentioned him staying on until Imil. At the last minute, Amiti had agreed. Those four days in Belinsk had just been a blur of anxiety: so close to Sveta's palace, within calling distance of a friend who would recognize and probably could have helped him... But by the time preparations were complete and they shoved off, he hadn't been able to work up the courage to actually approach the Beastmen court. Sveta was kind, she would have understood and supported him, but that support would have required an explanation eventually.

He couldn't handle that. At least not right now.

He needed answers, and that was why he was going to Imil. Leaning over the broad rail of the ship's side, the wind was so cold he had to squint through it as someone up in the rigging called out something about port. There had been land to the south for a few days already, but now it was beginning to stretch west and north around them: that haze hovering just over the water that wasn't glare or mist. When Amiti had last sailed this way with Matthew and the others, ice had barricaded Imil so heavily that only Mercury Lighthouse had been visible from the water.

In a few more hours he'd be able to see the town, see the buildings, see the port. Since the Golden Sun Event Imil had grown from a small village into a large town, or, as Rief often boasted: a small city. How they could support a growing population in such a barren landscape was beyond him. Was there really enough food here?

He was distracting himself again. What Amiti needed to be worried about was whether or not he had his story straight. The weeks he'd spent mostly alone had left him with a lot of time to sort his plans out in his mind, but then there had been even _more_ time to sit there and second-guess himself.

Had his name ever reached this far north? Sveta had known of him, but just barely, and Imil was even further removed from the politics of Ei-Jei. If he could keep his name then it would be one less thing to worry about, but just in case... This was his father's birthplace. The most important thing for him right now was making sure that fact remained a well-kept _secret._

Amiti was pulled from his thoughts as something cut out the faint morning light, a cry rising from the ship's helm before Amiti discerned the words of an incantation, a prayer to Mercury. Turning his gaze north, he hadn't seen it in the dawn light, but now shadowed against the rising sun was a lighthouse.

Impossibly tall, he saw the faint shine of blue from its ancient sides, his eyes following the monument's height until he felt an uncanny shiver down his spine: psynergy. The blue radiance of the beacon was tangible even from where their ship bobbed and sped along in the choppy black water. He could feel Mercury Lighthouse all the way from here, miles and miles from the actual structure. It was frightening.

But that meant this was it. They passed out of the lighthouse's shadow and the captain's voice went quiet, ending his prayer, or cry, or whatever the tradition was that Amiti hadn't picked up on. Sailors were superstitious, it wasn't just Eoleo. Somehow, from the outside moving in the town looked strange, but at least it felt like a place where Rief and Nowell could have grown up. The cold was difficult to adjust to, and the beacon would take getting used to.

Everything, for that matter, would take getting used to.

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Several hours and many wrong turns later, Amiti had resolved to hate snow even more here than he had on the ship. The lane he was been directed down was long, quiet, and a treacherous walk from Imil's small harbour. The snow here hadn't been trampled to slush or all the way down to what looked like cobbles: it was piled up to his knees and sent up bursts of white whenever he took a step. He couldn't feel his feet, hands, or legs as he moved, and his arms were losing sensation as well before he came up to what had to be the right place.

The crooked fence was made of gnarly branches, and denoted nothing more than a property line which ran all the way past three old houses. They were all old properties, but this one was the largest: two stories with rooves which were bent slightly under the weight of the heavy snow sitting on them. It was up a short rise and there was a small, crooked gate that led down onto the lane. From where he stood, Amiti felt like he actually had to tilt his head a little to see the house straight. But this had to be the right place, it fit the description and Amiti knew he didn't have the strength to negotiate another wrong turn.

Smoke was wafting from the brick chimney, thin white wisps caught up by the very light wind blowing in from the ocean. On the second story, positioned on a portion of the roof which extended beyond the walls of the upper level, there was a small windmill spinning away. He could hear it making a distant tapping sound, the gears winding away, ignorant of the snow that was coming down in thick, heavy flakes in the quiet and settling on the ground.

Now, finally, Amiti looked down to take in his own appearance, chewing his tongue behind chapped red lips. He knew his steel-blue hair was matted and had twisted around itself like dreadlocks. It was the result of going so long without hot water or a good scrub. The salt didn't help either: his skin, his clothes, his hair, his nails, even his teeth and gums hurt from so much dry seawater. His blue pants had another layer of thicker, warmer trousers on underneath now, but the original pair were tatters that ended just below the knees.

He had boots someone had found for him in Belinsk, the same pair that the captain let him keep as payment for his services on-board. The pants were tucked into the sorely abused and salt-cracked grey leather, dull strips of stained cloth bound over the tops to help seal even a _little_ bit of heat in. Similar wraps adorned his palms and wrists: he'd needed his fingers free while on deck. The remains of an Ayuthan tunic were wrapped around his torso as well, the linens so stained and torn and slept-in that, like the pants, the blues and whites were more a memory than reality anymore. Like the ones on his hands, still more strips of old canvas and fabric were wound around his forehead to hold his hair back, another around his neck to protect the skin.

His only weapon was his dagger, which doubled as the only thing he owned which looked like it had really survived the journey north. He kept the ornate dagger tucked deep inside his clothes: too valuable to lose, too remarkable to show. He had no other blades with him: the sword he'd been given on the ship had been the captain's property, promptly returned once the voyage was complete, but it would have been cumbersome to wear in the snow. He looked harmless like this, thin and weaponless. Only his blue hair hinted that he might have been an adept, and down by the water it had been the only sign that he was someone who maybe shouldn't be messed with.

'_Even Paithos wouldn't recognize me like this.'_ There was no confident, happy feeling to accompany that thought, just the sullen bite of acknowledgement. At least if close family wouldn't know him, extended members wouldn't have much chance.

He rapped his knuckles on the door and waited, aware of the snow collecting in his shoulders and head, and the sky darkening from the bright afternoon grey into a darker, sootier evening. The clouds looked dirty and there was no promise of seeing the sun again until after the snow stopped falling. If this was fall, what would winter be like?

"Megan, I told you I'd be right-" There was a gentle laugh on the other side of the door just before the thick wood swung in, and Amiti stopped thinking. "Oh. This is a surprise, can I help you?" It took him a moment to understand that it wasn't Nowell speaking to him, that her voice was wrong and her face not quite right: this was her mother.

"I'm- I'm sorry, I-" Rief's mother had hair that was a bit darker than either of her children's but close to Nowell's in length: clasped over her shoulder with a few grey metal rings. Her face had an ageless quality, almost like Captain Piers', but still different. Her eyes were a jade colour, a mix of pale green and deep blue resting in a pale, oval face.

"I..." Standing in her own home she was already wearing layers: a thick blue sweater under a tighter, darker tunic that spread down over her hips. She was wearing a dress but his attention didn't move down that far. She really did look like Nowell...

"Oh dear..." Huh? "Here, come inside where it's warm. Did you just come from the port?" She beckoned him in with one pale hand as she stepped back over the threshold. He wasn't sure about intruding until he felt a soft gust of warm air from inside strike his face. It was all the convincing he needed. Mia shut the door firmly behind him and blocked the cold air from further infiltrating her home. She'd asked him a question, he only just heard it now.

"Yes, Ma'am. I arrived today." Snapping out of it, Amiti glanced around in the dark and realized they were standing in a dank, chilly room. A few boxes and barrels piled up against one stone wall, a puddle of water on the grainy floor. He followed her through another door as she gestured for him to leave his boots on, Amiti shaking some of the snow from his tangled hair before climbing the short flight of stairs.

Once he was up Amiti realized the first level was split, that lower room just used to keep the heat from escaping out into the snow. Here it was warm, his skin going numb with the change in temperature as his attention was immediately drawn to the massive hearth burning against one wall. He was surprised by the high ceiling and exposed rafters because it meant the second level was split as well: half of this room had the high ceiling, the other side, to his right, had a very low one. All of this probably meant that the main fire never went out. To his right, with the low ceiling, several large tables made up the functional area: cooking supplies, herbs, medicines, papers, small bits of wood and metalcraft. Beyond the tables in the back was another fire hidden inside a stone cooking area.

Taken as a whole it seemed more like a workshop than a home... but then his eyes fell on an old box under one of the tables: a doll was half-hanging out, and he recognized a shelf of small rocks and crystals that had no immediate value- the sorts of trinkets a child would collect.

"Lady Mia?"

"Yes? Here, sit down." She directed him to a sturdy wooden chair before she busied off and found a large kettle, filling it with water from a source he could only sense, not see. She hung it from a hook over the large, blazing hearth and then went to one of her tables. "Can I ask you a few quick questions?"

"Um, yes?" Actually, he'd been the one who wanted to-

"How long have you been at sea for?" Following her eyes up, Amiti saw the many colourful bunches of herbs and plants hanging from the ceiling, Mia picking a few leaves from select bundles as she spoke. A cleaver chopped the plants roughly,and then they went into a mortar with a little more water.

"Three, four months, maybe?" He answered slowly, shifting a little in his chair trying to get a look at what she was doing. "From Sana." She just made a soft clicking sound behind her teeth, something he'd heard Rief do every now and then, before she shook her head and went back to the fire. Picking up the kettle with a rag over her hand to protect her fingers, she brought that back to the table. He hadn't seen her get the cup before the mashed herbs vanished inside the smooth clay. She stirred it briskly with a spoon then brought it over to him.

"Thank you, what-" He almost dropped the vessel when she passed it into his hands. It was so _hot_. Placing it on his lap, the layers he was wearing let the heat seep in to his skin, but he felt her watching him as he struggled to coax his fingers around the edge of the cup. "What's it for?" It smelt citrus-y, like lemon zest and pomegranates. But it was hot, it was a painful shock to his skin... and welcome at the same time.

"Scurvy." She said it so easily that he had to stop and stare. "It's a mild case, but you'll be fine. May I?" Wait- he was sick? Sick with _what?_ She held a hand out to his face and, after a moment's hesitation, Amiti nodded. She tugged his eye-lids up so she could check the whites, then gestured for him to curl his lips up and let her see the gums.

She asked if they had been sore and he nodded slowly, having put it down to the salt. Had any old wounds reopened? Amiti almost answered, then looked down at the hot cup between his hands instead. No, none had opened. He told her that but wouldn't admit that it had almost happened. The wounds had begun to split but he had ply'd the skin until the scars began to rise and twist unnaturally, anything to keep from bleeding on deck. Lifting the mug up slowly, he blew over the top before letting the liquid scald his chapped lips and shoot down his throat, it kept him from talking. Fires were hazardous on ships, the last time he'd had something hot had been in Belinsk, so he didn't mind the burning. She was watching him closely, he felt it, so he busied himself with drinking more of the brew without tasting it. He was careful not to scald too much of his throat and mouth as he felt the tea splash into his empty stomach, heating him up from inside. Finally warm...

"Lady Mia, thank you but I-" Looking up at her, she had folded her arms loosely and was standing there patiently. She was thinking. "I mean, I didn't know I was sick, so I'm not sure." Wait, stop, just stop. Looking down past her arm at the wall beyond, Amiti made himself drink more of the tea, finally noticing now how bitter it was.

He had to think, that was the first step of speaking: know what you have to say, order how to say it. Then speak.

"I came here hoping to be your apprentice, Ma'am." He should have stood up but knew he'd just be made to sit down again if he tried. His voice was rough, as in rougher than before, it was probably an effect of the scalding drink.

"Apprentice?" She repeated, tilting her head just slightly to one side like Rief did when being reminded of something. "I haven't had one in quite some time. Not since my children left home." Her eyes absently moved off to one wall, that shelf of trinkets holding her attention for a moment before Amiti spoke again.

"I've never had someone help properly train my psynergy." He admitted, hoping it would strengthen his case. He'd just showed up on her doorstep, after-all.

"So you _are_ an adept." She glanced at his hair.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"A Sanan adept." _NO!_

"Yes." Sana and Ayuthay were two very different places, but her voice said enough of her skepticism. Would she even believe him if he was from Ayuthay? Did it make a difference?

"And your name...? Does your captain know you're here?"

"My psynergy paid for my passage, so I had no debt to the ship. I'm self-taught, but strong." Not a lie. No one in Ayuthay had been an adept or had the skills to teach him how his powers worked. Rief had offered some instruction, but most of Amiti's habits had been too firmly set for them to afford the time needed to break them down and teach him properly. Strength had been his most valuable asset, facilitated by the sword.

All of those memories felt like a whole other world now when he thought about them now: like a dream he'd been rudely woken up from...

She was still watching, waiting for his name. He was running out of tea to stall with, his lips shrivelling around a soaked leaf that he unwisely chose to chew. Name, name, name... How could she possibly have heard his name from way up here?

"Amiti." Even if he lied, he wouldn't be able to keep it up for too long. She would need his name if he was allowed to stay. Amiti could adjust to the loss of everything else but his name was... his.

"Well, Amiti." She said kindly, accepting the empty cup back from him now that he was finished with it. "Do you have anywhere else to stay in Imil?"

"No, Ma'am." But he had a bit of money, he could find an inn if he had to. Flexing his hands slowly, he could actually feel his fingers again. Sort of. "But I-"

"Then you'll stay here tonight and you can take my son's room." Rief's room? The image that came to him was a small space. And not because the walls were close together: but because his friend had filled the room with so many books that you could hardly get through the door. Would it really look like that? Wait, now wasn't the time to get lost in daydreams- he had to sit upright and try to speak properly, try to act his new part. She hadn't properly accepted him yet, hadn't answered the question at all really.

"Thank you, Lady Mia. You have a son?" He knew that answer, but at the same time... how would he explain knowing Rief? Even if he lied and said it was a passing knowledge, if he stayed here long enough it would only be a matter of time before he said something foolish. Simply denying would have to work for now, it would be better than trying to balance what he should and should not know. Amiti would have to watch himself while he was here. Watch constantly.

"Yes, he's a bit younger than you are, but..." There was something in her voice just before Mia clicked her tongue again and shook her head a little, still smiling. "Some of his clothes might fit you, you just might be too tall."

"Oh, I couldn't, I-"

"You'll freeze if you stay dressed like that up here." Err... That was true. "Come, we'll at least get you cleaned up and fed. We'll discuss the rest of it tomorrow." Without another word she was off working again. Putting away the cup for washing, clearing away the excess herbs, then vanishing off into another corner of the first level, someplace with more water and more heat. How did they have steam in-doors in a place as cold as this? It was such a strange, alien place...

He was certainly going to learn a lot here: _if_ he was allowed to stay.

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**If you read it, review it!**


	2. I'm Learning

**Chapter 2! Yesterday was Tuesday, that makes today Wednesday- time for updates!**** Tennessee, Pearl Harbour Theme, Time, Aqua Rock Remix (youtube).**

**I can't reply directly to reviews that are made anonymously, this bothers me, but in response to one: Yes! Amiti does remember the conversation with Tret. He sort of forgot it for a while in Ayuthay, but now he's very, very aware of it. xD**

**Like with the scurvy before, I Googled the herbs mentioned in this chapter so they should be vague but accurate. Fennel with figs, I think I'ma try that when I get a chance.**

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_**Imil**_

I'm Learning

In Ayuthay's Core there was a wide, circular space used for public celebrations and announcements. The Alchemy Well provided light in this space and much of the rest of the Core at night, that was part of why it had been such a safe haven during the Eclipse. The problem was that sometimes the festive, safe air of the Core was violated, but it had to be: that was how states were run.

The city's people had been called to gather, crowds descending from the surface and expecting some word of the Well's repairs: the new fixture from Passaj still hadn't been delivered by the time this happened. Amiti had been brought out, bare-chested, and the crowd had started screaming before the proclamation was complete. The announcement had been vague, nothing he really remembered. No crime, just the punishment, a call for unity or some-such else meant to calm the people and keep them under the king's rule. It hadn't sounded like it worked. There had been fights between the crowd and the guards. Between the guards and other guards.

The only thing rarer than a public flogging was an execution, and one of those hadn't been performed in public since Amiti's grandfather had sat on Ayuthay's throne. He tried not to think on it any more than he had to. He told himself he remembered less than he really did, and changed details whenever he found himself wondering. Did the scars on his wrists mean he'd been bound a short time in metal shackles, or a long time in leather? Twenty lashes could kill someone, it usually did, it made sense why some of the blows had been sent across the backs of his arms and legs, diagonal marks splitting the skin on his calves. They had been mercy-strikes, they ate away at the required number without flaying the skin completely off the bones... And sometimes he only felt nine or ten scars on his back, so did that mean he didn't even get the full punishment? He liked to think so, but every now and then he felt different ones in certain places, the areas that were hard to reach around and feel, and on the ship he hadn't seen or asked for a mirror. He'd been told twenty, that meant there had been twenty.

Amiti hadn't been able to heal himself, not for a while at least; long enough for his body to begin stitching the wounds and fighting the infections itself. The delay had punished him with the heavy scars around his wrists and the ones criss-crossing his back, shoulders and legs. He hadn't wanted them, now they were permanent. He made sure his wrists were wrapped tight in the clean strips of cloth he'd found in Rief's things, cramping his hands inside his friend's small old gloves every morning he woke up and found himself still living in Imil.

It had been two weeks, he was Mia's apprentice.

"You look much better today, Amiti."

"Thank you, Ma'am." One thing he had already learned about Nowell's mother was that it was almost impossible for her to keep still, or to not work. If she wasn't distilling oils and juices from her herbs then she was chopping and drying them for later. Or she was mending clothes, or she was cooking, or cleaning, or weaving, or setting something up, or taking something else down. And if she completed every task in the house then she was out in the town, always, constantly moving. Every day. And he'd only been here these two weeks.

Amiti finally understood why Rief was always searching for something to keep him occupied. Be it reading old, faded glyphs on temple walls or mulling incessantly over partial clues and riddles he was always in the middle of something. Nowell was the same way: always moving, always doing _something_. They got it from their mother, her energy was industrious and infectious: you just _had_ to be busy.

So he had been. She sent him on errands for the first few days for what turned out to be new clothes for him to wear: a proper cloak and jacket to keep the cold off him and boots that were made for snow and ice. He knew there was a pair of gloves on the way too despite his claims that Rief's were just tight, still fine.

After those errands it had been chores, ones he accepted without question because he was living here. He chopped and moved wood, and was put in charge of keeping the house's several hearths burning. When she went out, he went with her and either dragged the sled with her supplies and donations on it, or carried them on his back and shoulders when there wasn't enough to load up the cumbersome device.

She also quizzed him constantly, usually about the herbs both native and foreign to Imil which she somehow kept in supply. He hadn't come to learn botany, but he couldn't dictate what she could and could not teach him. Hyssop for digestion, ginger for vomiting, fennel for lung problems.

He never touched the herbs or administered the medicine, only watched and, more often than not, was given laborious tasks around the patients' homes. But it was the good kind of labour; they were skills he'd never had to learn in Ayuthay, all about fixing walls or cleaning chimneys. It was exhausting, but it was alright to drag a sled full of wood back through the streets to homes that had run out of fuel. He hadn't come to Imil to learn about carpentry or masonry, but there was satisfaction in hanging a granddaughter's pictures for her ailing grandmother. People were beginning to recognize him. It was nice.

He loaded the sled up again this morning with more wood and a large blanket Mia had been repairing for one of her patients: a young woman who had given birth just a few days ago. He understood now that many of the things Imilians had- flour, sugar, spices, etc. Were all brought in via ships like the one he'd worked on. Today there was a special tin canister of tea-leaves, something Amiti would have never considered rare or expensive in Ei-Jei, but even Mia could only afford a few spoon-fulls of the aromatic herb for her patient.

He didn't question her when she brought out a loaf of bread and some dried meats all wrapped in a cloth, or the flask that went with them. She often took food with them for charity. The large, empty wooden cask she added on was something he didn't recognize though, the barrel was usually kept by the station where she mixed her medicines together. Amiti had just assumed there was some sort of spirit inside for mixing in with the herbs and water to make it all bind properly. Were they going to the brewery? Why were there skiis on there too? He didn't know how to use those...

"I think we'll go to the lighthouse tonight." She said, leading the way as they left the tall, crooked house behind and started up the lane, Amiti dragging the sled behind him with the cords slung over his shoulder.

"Lighthouse?" He still wasn't used to walking in deep snow, and several fresh inches had fallen during the night. This meant he was going to be shoveling someone's walkway today, maybe two.

"Yes, I imagine you've wanted to see the aerie since you arrived, haven't you?" Of course he had, he was just surprised. "And I need more Hermes water, so the sooner you get used to the trip, the easier it will be." The trip?

That was right, Mercury Lighthouse was easily visible from the town, especially the hill where Mia lived, but he knew that it had to be a long ways off. The beacon was just slightly dimmer during the day than the sun, and at night it competed with Luna for precedence in the sky. He knew it was just a machine, supposedly like the Alchemy Well, but it was far grander than that even at a distance.

They finished up their business quickly in town, Amiti unloading most of the supplies from the sled and greatly lessening the weight. Then they moved beyond along the outskirts of the settlement where Mia finally stopped and shook some of the heavy snow off her cloak, turning around with a robust smile and a healthy glow on her face.

"Well, have you ever used these before?" She asked, having him pull the sled up and removing the two long pairs of skiis from their bindings.

"I'm sorry, no. I've only ever seen them-" Ack- wait, no. He'd seen them on the Khiren glacier, but admitting to that sort of travel wouldn't be wise. "-with traders. Men who did business in Khiren." Better. But she watched his face curiously and that frustrated him. Amiti was supposed to be able to lie, he'd been trained to, and he'd do well not to forget it just because he was someplace else now.

"Well, it's not hard." She said, dropping her set to the snowy ground and carefully stepping on. "Just make sure you get your toes and ankles right between these notches here. I would have brought the ropes and bindings, but I wanted you to try this instead." At _this_, a soft blue light radiated out from below Mia's foot through the snow. The softly-pact ice quickly started to move up, wrapping around the ski, her foot, and then up her ankle until it was almost at her knee and then stopped. Amiti looked up and saw her watching him, waiting for him to take a turn.

Moving snow was... difficult. Water was what he was used to, and freezing it into whatever shape or form occurred to him, but Rief had been quick to point out during their travels that Amiti wasn't very good at manipulating the element after it solidified. It felt like he was pushing against stone with his hands, trying to make it bend or twist or do something it just couldn't.

"Keep trying... there you go." He winced at the coldness as the ice crept up his leg, stopping it easily enough but wary not to break it if he moved to sharply. He heard Mia's encouragement, but then shook his head slowly.

"No, not really." Lifting his foot with the ski attached now, there was a large chunk along the skii's smooth underbelly that wouldn't release itself. She encouraged him to try anyways, but it just caused the rest of the brittle cast around his leg to break apart. Frustrating. "Is this really better than the ropes?"

"It might not seem that way, but yes." He felt her psynergy reach through the snow and give him a bit more direction, making him try a few more times both with and without her help. "If you fall or lose control then the ice will break and free you from the skiis. If you're attached with rope then there's no way for them to pop off if you get into trouble." Having them fly off was _better? _"Better than having your legs ripped around, don't you think?" Er, yes.

"Alright, now that you've got them on lets try some basic maneuvering..." The basics easily took up an hour of their time, Mia walking him through how to turn, how to go up hill, and how to stop in slow, easy paces. Well, easy for her at least. He lost count of how many times he tried to pick up his feet and walk only to fall forward, ending up on his side to avoid hurting himself. Every time the ice broke, it took several more minutes just to manipulate the snow again.

"You'll learn more by doing, I think. Tie the sled ropes around your waist and lets go." He still had to pull the...? At least she handed him a set of poles to help him move across the snow now.

The way was hard and it took him a long time to find his rhythm. The more he panted and stabbed at the snow the further behind he seemed to get, watching Mia just glide along ahead of him like the ice was propelling her rather than getting in the way. It was easier to slide through her tracks than to cut his own at least, and it wasn't snowing. He could see the lighthouse before they started, looming far away in the distance, and couldn't tell if it helped him keep track of his progress or not: it was so tall.

"Were either of your parents adepts, Amiti?" The question reached him once they were well into their trek. His legs, arms, and sides had all gone numb by now, his scarf wrapped up over his face to stop the cold wind from assaulting him. He didn't think he could answer, but then heard the words leave his mouth.

"My father." There hadn't been many personal questions between his arrival and now. She knew that he could fight with the sword or bow, that he had come from a southern region of Sana and had, clearly, survived the Eclipse despite that. He had no siblings. "I never knew him, or my mother." Now she knew this.

"An orphan?"

"My uncle raised me." Orphan was a word, just one he hadn't heard very often throughout his life. Amiti had always been told he had only one parent, so perhaps that had qualified him as an orphan. It just didn't feel like the same thing. "And you..? Can I...?"

He wasn't sure if she heard him or not, his were arms burning again as they had reached a flat of ice now. The landscape resembled tundra as the trees dropped away and with them went most of the hills and drifts. He didn't have to think as hard about where to put his clumsy feet now, but there were still only the monotonous movements of stabbing and dragging to occupy his thoughts, meaning he needed something else before his body just gave out. Ahead of him, he saw Mia slow down on her skiis, which meant he could come to a gliding stop behind her. Too far: he had to drag himself a few more feet with no momentum.

"I have two children, but I let them go off to learn with an old, dear friend of mine." She meant Kraden, but he wasn't supposed to know that. Looking past her as Mia glanced over her shoulder to look at him, they both ended up staring ahead at the blue spire of Mercury Lighthouse. He realized now that they were almost there, and was struck by the size of the monument. Much taller than the Luna Tower in Belinsk, Apollo Sanctum was probably only taller by virtue of being built atop a mountain.

"No brothers?" He asked, testing. He knew she had more family than just her children.

"None."

He didn't think about it, thankful for the brief rest she let him have as they stopped for a few minutes. He was leaning on his poles and trying not to slip backwards on the ice, willing away the aches that were worming their way out of the numbness.

"The lighthouse will refresh us, it's just a little bit further now." That bit of encouragement didn't make it any easier to begin going again. But sure enough, they did end up getting there, arriving outside the sky-blue monolith and slowly removing their skiis. She told him to simply leave the sled there, convinced no harm could come to it while they were here.

"There's no snow." He remarked, looking around slowly at where the tundra ran up to a stone's throw of the Lighthouse's stairs, then faded and melted away. "Does someone tend it?"

"No, it's just part of the magic." He helped her stow their skiis and poles back on the sled, Mia removing the bundle of food, the flask, and handing him the large cask before they turned and moved up the alabaster steps.

From there, a bridge? He ended up pausing and looking down into the flowing water for a moment. No ice here either. And was the water actually blue or was he imagining it? He felt like he was staring into the waters of Barai temple again, all aglow with the power of the Well. After crossing, Amiti found himself staring straight up at the structure overhead. The geometric sides of the tower extended on in perfect, unbroken lines all the way into the sky.

"Here, fill the cask at the spout."

At her voice Amiti noticed the fountain, able to hear it but having tuned it out for a moment. Protruding from the wall was a gold spout, blue water spilling out through its narrow lips and into the narrow channel as if it were filling the canal around the lighthouse. And yes, it certainly was glowing, he wasn't imagining it or confusing his memories. He rolled the barrel over and set it up properly, prying out the thick cork which kept the cask water-tight. The stream was narrow so it would take some time for the vessel to fill up completely, but at least he was able to set the barrel down on a small platform built out just far enough for it to rest there, steady.

"...This is Hermes water?" He asked slowly, unable to remember her saying as much before they'd left. He'd heard the word at Port Rago a lifetime ago, had held a flask of luminescent water that had aided them in Kolima. Mia didn't answer right away though, her face was considerate as she watched the water. Amiti watched the healer move up onto a narrow ledge which extended back behind the spout, kneeling down at the edge of the basin which provided for the spout. Reaching out, he watched Mia pass her gloved fingers just over the blue surface, but then shy away without actually touching it. She was a Warrior of Vale, she had been here before this fountain was active- just as Paithos had known Ayuthay before the Well... What did she think about coming here?

"It is." She answered, gesturing for him to climb up and join her on the ledge, which he did, kneeling next to her and ignoring the cold tiles: they sucked the warmth right out of his knees. He tried to listen instead: "The concentration of healing energies in the water is caused by the lighthouse, it can cure almost anything; illnesses, wounds, infections. But too much of it and some people begin to grow addicted, so I use it sparingly. The tundra helps by deterring most people from coming out this far." Amiti was quiet, looking down as the pool beneath the spout begin to calm and go still now that the stream was blocked by the cask. He found one of his gloved hands rubbing the opposite wrist, stopped for a moment, and then looked back at where his teacher was kneeling, her eyes trained on the water.

"Is it alright to touch?" He asked quietly, watching as she blinked away her thoughts and looked up. She put on her kind smile again, the one everyone liked to see. There was some of Nowell in her face.

"Of course. You'll find it quite warm." Shifting a little bit as Mia moved and gave him more access to the edge, Amiti looked down into the water and held his wrist again, slowly resolving to remove his glove despite the bitter cold. Once that was done he undid the wraps around his wrist, slowly pulling the white linen away. He could feel her watching him, but was determined to give this a try.

The wounds had all closed up. They'd healed over. There was no redness now, not even the pink of freshly sealed cuts. They weren't tender, didn't hurt, and he didn't expect any change as he touched the water first with his fingertips, then plunged his hand in till just below the sleeve. She was right, it was very warm to the touch- which was also bad since it meant his hand would be even colder than before once he exposed it to the wind again. It felt like ply, but it was warm and comforting instead of cool and invigorating. Pulling his hand and wrist out slowly... no change.

"It was worth a shot." He said, trying to smile and laugh it off a little as he rubbed his hand against his jacket, licking a drop of the sweet, luminous water off his thumb before he quickly re-bound his wrist and then crammed his fingers back into Rief's slender glove. "I think the barrel's full now." Hopefully it was, but just the act of checking gave him a reason to slide off the edge. Mia said nothing, Amiti had been looking at his wrist so he wasn't sure where her eyes had been. He shouldn't have felt disappointed when he looked up to see her gaze following his hands as he twisted the barrel around, moving it out from under the spout. It was very hard not to give in and say something, his confidence suddenly lacking as she scrutinized him. He got through it by reminding himself that he was was here to learn, not share.

The barrel was much, much heavier now and took him a moment to properly ease it back down onto its side so he could roll it. Getting it onto the sled was another chore, but once there, he secured it in place a with several ropes and then made his way back to her. Mia was still watching him.

"Lady Mia?"

"Why did you leave Sana, Amiti?" Her eyes said that the question was serious, her face held concern, and her voice was firm. "And why to Imil?"

Amiti took a moment, knowing she'd let him have the time. He thought over the truth, then his reality, recognized what he could say... He then organized what needed to be addressed, still thinking carefully, and then finally spoke.

"I fought with my uncle, Ma'am." He said slowly, truthfully. "I knew I needed to find something, and with your reputation..." Reputation, no. Family, yes. He let his eyes slip past her to the fountain, lying. "It was the best choice for me." Learning from her was, yes, important. There were just certain things he couldn't get out of his head: fights he'd lost, the way he'd lost them... But that wasn't the root of it. "A Mercury Adept, and Mercury Lighthouse. Across Angara it's like no matter where you are people think of Imil as the home of our clan long before they mention Lemuria." _Our clan_. He wanted the words back, but it was a stupid wish. All branches of the Mercury Clan were still _one clan,_ the bloodlines were a formality, she wouldn't follow his mistake unless he gave her something to look for.

Alex was from Imil. Nowell was from Imil. He'd had to see this place: had to.

"Come, sit. We'll have something to eat here and then go up to the aerie." Mia gave her mothering smile and beckoned him over, unwrapping their lunch and ripping off a small piece of bread for him.

Amiti obeyed, and they talked of other things.

* * *

**Review it if something bugged you! Why? Because then I can fix it. If your experience is set off by something you feel shouldn't be there, DO TELL. No detail I throw in here is more important than how it impacts the reader: I make up a lot of this stuff, so I can delete it just as easily.**


	3. I'm Panicking

**Time, 528491.**

* * *

_**Imil**_

I'm Panicking

She'd taken the Ice Queen away from him. Not right away, and not to make him mad, but she'd still taken it away. A few more trips to the Lighthouse over several weeks had exposed his reliance on the piece, so now it and its chain were hung on a nail by the hearth. He could have taken it back, but knew he wouldn't. The honour system was effective that way.

Breaking down his bad-habits had been painful, in fact it still hurt a little. But it was getting better, _he_ was getting better. His ability to heal was more refined, directing the energy into a specific part of the body rather than just showering the afflicted person with as much raw magic as he could muster. His skill with moving water remained, and he had begun to properly handle ice, but his progress here was slow. Freezing water was still easy. Moving ice was still hard.

While making his rounds with Mia, Amiti wasn't sure if he liked the impression he was making or not. He found himself treating a lot more women than men as the frigid season wore on: especially older or younger ones. It was embarrassing to be asked for or preferred over the real healer, even worse when he got there and realized there was nothing that needed healing at all. Mia had assured him (with being asked) that the favouritism was just teasing, or a genuine preference for a male healer. Rief had apparently started going through the same hazing just before he left with Kraden, so Amiti did his best not to hear the mild flirtations. Or the blatant ones.

It had been different in Ayuthay, he had been a prince- a figure. He could kiss an older woman's hand or her cheek, or he could make small-talk with a daughter of age and know exactly where he stood at all times. It just wasn't the same thing without a crown and status- what was flattery and what was flirting? It wasn't the same thing at all here. It felt _wrong_ here. But he didn't know why: he wasn't being watched in Imil, no one was paying attention. The jests should have made him laugh like that at ho- in Ayuthay. But they didn't.

"I need you to take these ones next."

"The thatcher's wife?" He asked, not even hearing himself speak as he tore his eyes away from the hearth fire, watching the red light bounce back and forth across the Ice Queen's planes and angles.

"Of course. She needs to know she can't just pick and choose when we're both so busy. Is that boiling yet?"

"Yes." Grabbing the thick cloth and wrapping it over his palm and fingers, Amiti removed the kettle from over the heat and brought it over to Mia's work-table, carefully avoiding the assortment of herbs and papers set out everywhere. The weather was supposedly getting warming, which he didn't quite believe, but Mia said this time of year always led to more sores and injuries.

"People get sick in winter, and they get injured in spring..." She murmured, bending over a careful blend of different roots and leaves as Amiti filled several glass vials with just the right amount of hot water. "I know she doesn't like you, although I really don't know _why_, but you'll do this?"

"Of course, Ma'am." She clicked her tongue but didn't correct him, aware that he wouldn't say her name while they were working. He filled and replaced the kettle over the heat, then returned and snatched up the thick jar of green salve she had prepared for the wife. It was still warm in his hand, and he was tugging his gloves on with his teeth as he left the house behind and stepped out into slushy snow and sunshine. At least it was bright in Imil: he'd been running errands in and out of the house all morning, but at least there was light to see by now that winter was ending.

But running errands really _did_ mean running them. He could manage snow now, so long as it wasn't too deep. Ice was still a danger that sent him skidding into a fall every few days. And at least he could still move quickly down lanes and between houses, even if it was to a destination where he wouldn't be welcomed.

"Oh _no,_ can't Mia come instead?"

"I'm sorry, Mister Thatcher, she's very busy today." One of the few patients on Mia's rounds who actually _disliked him_ rather than held a mere ambivalence towards whoever administered the medicine. Amiti almost didn't get into the house at all, and when he did, he was led by the family's granddaughter down the short hall to the matron's room.

"You know, she's only so bitter because she's in pain." The granddaughter, unfortunately, didn't share her grandmother's disdain for him. The husband had only barred the way because he feared the fit, the granddaughter intervened because... well, what else? "I mean, you're really so kind, I don't know how she couldn't like you."

"Well, I'll try and give her her medicine quickly and be on my way." He answered, making himself smile, practising doing so when he didn't really want to. Amiti didn't know when he'd fallen out of practice with pleasantries and lying, it should have been second-nature. Still, the reality was that out of affection, ambivalence, and this one case of unexplained disgust, Amiti really did prefer the middle response from patients. Yes, the daughter was remarkably pretty: red-gold hair, green eyes, a few freckles... but he just... She blocked the door for a moment, palms over the handle and facing him so he couldn't really get past her. She was one of the blatant flirts.

"If you do it quickly, then you'll have some free time, won't you? Lady Mia won't expect you back_ that_ quickly..." He realized he was uncomfortable with flirting because no woman in Ayuthay had ever been forward enough to try it on him. He was uneasy with that realization as he anticipated her next comment.

"I've already eaten today, Maria, but thank-you. Another time?" Because _'No.' _just led to _'Why not?'_, _'I'm taken.' _was a lie and would lead to more questions, and '_please stop harassing me_' was just not the right answer. By giving the correct response Amiti was able to coax the daughter away from the door. He kept his smile on as she fluttered off down the hall, her eye-lashes going and the end of her braid twirled around one finger, when she was finally out of sight he was able to let go of his sigh and step inside.

"Madame?" The room was quiet as he poked his head in, warm with a small stove burning in the corner, and well-lit by a window facing the sun. The walls were plastered and painted a shade of green that had faded over the years, and in the thin bed was a thinner woman, her head attached to the rest of her body by the narrow cords of her neck. She was awake, and said nothing as he properly placed himself inside the room, the door now shut behind him. This was different.

"I've brought more of your medicine, Madame." He said calmly, smiling the same way he had at her grandchild to make her happy and leave. The effect on the matron was the expected opposite: her frail body suddenly tensed upright in the bed, dark eyes burning in his direction. He was going to say something else when she spoke.

"Is Mia here?" The woman was old, over sixty, maybe seventy. Her voice had dried up along with most of the blood in her body. But she was usually healthy, the salve in his hand was to control a large bruise that had spread up her leg from a fall. "Answer, boy!"

"No, Madame. Lady Mia is-"

"Then come here." He preferred indifference because it meant he could speak without being interrupted by giggles or commands. Still, this one surprised him. Amiti had expected her to scream or throw something at him for appearing there alone. Obeying, he slowly walked up to the bed, removing his gloves and tucking them into the belt holding his jacket and cloak closed before unscrewing the cap on the jar. He knelt down, knowing she probably wouldn't let him touch her, but he was obligated to try.

"You look just like that _snake._" His fingertips had just barely skimmed the thick green cream when she spoke again, and he froze. Turning his eyes to her he saw the old woman glaring down at him, as if she could make him burst into flames by wishing for it hard enough.

"Excuse me?"

"_Alex._" His throat closed when she said the name, a ringing sound starting up in his ears that blocked out the rest of what she said for a moment. "That viper- killing his own mother coming into this world, and then locking his own father out in a blizzard to freeze to death- _you have his face!"_ On his feet, backing away, and slowly. There was something horrifying watching the old hag's face twist with pain before a few tears leaked out of her furious eyes.

"I _warned_ that man not to let a cursed boy into his home, with his daughter." He didn't know what brought on this rant, didn't know if it was real or some sign of her age. How was he supposed to deal with this? "But he said he loved his sister and wanted her son taken care of by family, by the _Clan_." Wait, back up. "What clan? _You? _Are you what that good, honest man died for?_" _Amiti wasn't sure where he found his voice, but although it wouldn't help him escape her fit, he asked the question anyways.

"Mia and Alex were siblings...?"

"_Cousins, _you idiot!" Oh, well that- "And he repays his uncle by throwing everything away- the teachings, the history, the _duty_! And he ripped her heart in half when he did it! He fired each lighthouse like a knife in her back- until the gods killed him on Mount Aleph like he deserved!"

"Madame Thatcher you need to calm down." What would happen if the rest of her family heard this? Had she given this rant before? No, she was lucid, she'd asked for Mia before saying _anything_ at all, making sure she wasn't here to witness it. "Please, you need to just breathe and-"

"_But you're not old enough!_" She was crying, pulling up the sheets on the bed to hide part of her face, wiping tears onto her hands and the cloth. "It was over thirty years ago, how can you be so young? You're his son, but you can't be..." And now she was no longer lucid, confusion entering into the equation and effectively throwing Amiti out of his depths.

He had been worried about Mia recognizing something of Alex in him, this he hadn't expected: but he should have. Alex had _lived _in Imil. He had been a part of it, a member of it. He'd run errands for his family and he'd trained with them. And he'd probably dried herbs, and mixed salves, and helped the sick, and the injured, and the poor and- and people had _known_ him. They'd just, intrinsically, _known him_. And then he'd left them. He had _left_ them. And the next time someone had come close to him, the next time someone had, maybe, been close enough to know who he was, or think she knew, had been...

He couldn't do this. Amiti heard the thick glass jar smack against the floor as he fumbled for the doorknob, wheeling around as he heard the woman start screaming, knew her family was already running to the door and he wanted out before they got there.

"_Dullahan take you, devil-spawn!"_ Pulling open the door Amiti didn't see the old thatcher until he'd shoved his way clear past the man, breaking into a run despite the shouts and screams that snapped at his heels. He burst out into daylight and cold air, almost losing his balance on a flat sheet of ice hidden under the snow as he skidded to a halt. No one followed him, they were trying to control the old woman.

His head was hurting, he thought it was just the flash of sun on ice and snow, that ambient glow that followed the eyes everywhere in the snowy town, but it got worse. It got worse fast. It was a throbbing pain that he couldn't get away from, and his psynergy wasn't there to try and take it away.

He started walking because he couldn't be seen just standing there holding his head in the middle of the lane. He started walking down the hill, down in the direction of the port with the docks and ships. He just needed to walk. Maybe being near the ocean would help; Amiti had always privileged fresh water over salt, but right now any large body would do so long as it wasn't frozen.

What was he going to say to Mia when he went back? It wouldn't be impossible to evade the question of what the woman said, or to just lie about it provided she really _didn't_ want Mia to know, but he needed to think first. He had to be calm when he went home, had to be clear on what he was going to say and how to say it. Clarity was important.

So he walked. Amiti kept going until he started to hear people talking, until he noticed himself moving as part of a crowd. Numb but calming, Amiti started to listen.

"_Two dragon-headed ships in one day! And the ice is still so-"_

"_Can you believe it? He's back already!"_

_"If he brought Rief home I wonder how he'll-"_

_"Captain Piers is back! Captain Piers!"_ Wait-

"What did you say?" The crowd and his own wanderings had already taken him down to the docks: Amiti could smell the salt, hear the waves, even catch the cries of a few hardy sea birds. He hadn't even noticed he'd grabbed someone's sleeve until he saw the person giving him an affronted look, a man who looked like a sailor. Amiti's hair made him recognizable in the crowd, the man he was holding was anonymous. "Who's here?"

"Captain Piers!" The man announced, his face stern with warning. "I'd have thought an Adept would know about him." Oh no. No, no. Not good, not after-

"_You're being juvenile, Amiti."_

"_It is not your place to judge me, Captain Piers."_

"_But it is my place to council monarchs. King Paithos-"_

_Oh no_. Amiti had to get out of here. Out of this crowd. He wasn't supposed to think about that, about what had happened. Any of it. When he did then his head just- like it was right-_!_ Amiti shut his eyes tight, gritting his teeth against the incessant drumming that had chased him all the way from the gates of Ayuthay to the wharfs of Tonfon.

Fighting his way back through the crowd wouldn't let him escape, but cutting across it would take him into the alleys between warehouses and shops. As he moved he drew his hood up high over his hair and face, ducking and side-stepping, or just out-right shoving where the other two didn't work.

"_Hey!" _

Breaking out of the crowd, out of the sunlight, and into a snow and slush-filled alley, Amiti's eyes were still shut but somehow, for once, the change in temperature was a good thing. He wanted to be cold now. He wanted to be numb, it would help slow his heart down if he tricked it into thinking there were no sensible limbs left to pump for. He heard loud, angry footsteps behind him and swore softly to himself. Would he need his psynergy for this? To deter someone who had been shoved out of his way and hadn't liked it? Looking around blearily, he darted down a different alley, one that connected to the maze of buildings which lined the water's edge.

Amiti stopped hearing footsteps after only two quick turns, stopping with his back against a cold stone wall. He wasn't sure if he'd lost his pursuer or if the roaring sound in his ears was just drowning everything out. He didn't care either. Slowly sinking to the ground, he winced as the cold ice and snow met the back of his legs, but wore through it as he pressed his fingers firmly into his temples.

He couldn't make it stop, it wouldn't go away until after he calmed down and figured out what he was going to do. Amiti couldn't ply it away either: psynergy was beyond him when the pain got like this. It was like when he woke up from a dream, or spent too long in a memory: he had to just wait for it to go away. Getting his breathing back under control, Amiti grabbed a handful of snow and crushed the sharp slush to his forehead to try and distract himself, try and ease the pain. He _hated_ the cold...

"_Gotcha!"_ A large hand caught him by the knotted scarf under his chin, grasping for his throat as Amiti felt his arms flail, legs suddenly working to push him up onto his feet. "Alright y' little shit-" That voice- breastplate- bad breath- hang on! "I'm gonna get an apology for that or _you're_ gonna-"

"_Eoleo!_" If the pirate's hand hadn't been up to the knuckles in scarf and sweaters, he wouldn't have been able to get the word out. Amiti dropped the knife he had only half-noticed himself drawing, and quickly held his hands back against the wall as a sign of surrender. The throbbing had died down immediately, and he felt a hum beneath his feet as the water responded to his distress. It was hard to keep it under control, but he managed.

"...The _fuck?"_ Eoleo's face said exactly the same thing, his cherry-wood eyes scrunched up in confusion under furious red brows. His breath had a sour smell of alcohol, but that was something you just got used to around sailors. At least it didn't mean he was drunk, or not drunk enough to actually propel his fist straight through Amiti's skull like it was poised to do. "Holy shit... _Holy-_"

More profanity followed, but as quickly as he'd been grabbed Amiti felt the pirate let him go, Eoleo bringing both hands up over his tightly restrained hair. To protect himself from the cold he was wearing a long red robe that looked like it was made from leather hides, all stitched together and edged in fur. At least his friend was keeping warm while he chased people down in the street... Eoleo just kept rubbing his head though, his reaction more than Amiti had expected from an almost-assault. His eyes were even closed, and Amiti numbly watched the tall man pace in a small circle, back and forth.

"It's been a while, Eoleo." Checking his throat to make sure no damage had been done, he would be fine, but his headache wasn't completely gone. Almost, but not quite. "You okay?" He didn't _look_ okay. Kneeling slowly, Amiti picked his dagger up off the snow, wiping off some of the slush before digging his hand around carefully under his robe and jacket to find the small sheathe.

"No, no talking, you." What? "Rum. Rum right now."

"_Rum?_"

"Rum, vodka, pig-swill. I don't care." So... off he went?

And Amiti, a little stunned, very confused, but not completely adverse to the idea... followed.

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**Jeeze all of these chapters have such abrupt endings XD I don't think it gets any better, but at least my updates are consistent, eh?**

**EOLEO. I love that guy. And he's also the only character in any of the three parts who will ever actually swear in-text. I don't like having GS characters use real-world English cusses, but Eoleo's special and can scream all the dirty words he wants.**

**Next chapter is lulzy. Or stupid, depends on your tastes. But I find it lulzy. **

**Review!**


	4. I'm Hiding

**The Brethren Court. Listen to it, because this chapter just sounds better that way XP**

**Changes after the first segment... I guess 528491 fits in there.**

* * *

_**Imil**_

I'm Hiding

Amiti had drunk with the rest of his ship-mates for the few months he was en route to Imil. Part of it was the bonding aspect, of becoming one of the crew. Another part was how incredibly cold it was sailing on the high seas without a psynergy-charged Lemurian vessel to take the trip in half the time. But really, the most _important_ part about drinking... was the getting drunk part.

"So then I said- _'Lady!',_ and I said- _'Lady!'_, and- an y'know I don't even _remember_ what I said."

"But you _told_ her."

"_DAMN STRAIGHT I DID."_ They had magic glasses in this place, these tiny little glass cups that you got, and when you drank what was in them, they refilled themselves. _All by themselves._ It was amazing. The best psynergy _ever._ He had to learn it. But first he was going to drink it, still laughing at Eoleo's story about... whatever it was about, as their glasses refilled themselves (_all by themselves!_) and they picked them up, tried to knock the rims, and then downed the entire gulp of... whatever it was.

"It burns, that really burns..." Slowly lowering his head onto the bar, Amiti laughed and wheezed the words out as he listened to Eoleo smash his magic cup on the wood. SMASH SMASH SMASH. (That was how they refilled themselves!) And then he laughed s'more because smash was a funny word.

"Another one! For my imaginary friend and me!"

"And _I..!_"

"And him!"

The magic liquid in the magic cups returned, was drank, and was celebrated with more shouting from the pirate and more coughing from the... the whatever he was. The drunk. Sure. That'd work. He was drunk.

"Who... Who's your imaginary friend?" Amiti asked, aware of his slur but, who really cared? "I don't see 'im."

"S' you!"

"Me..? _No_..."

"Yeah! Y'see." And then the pirate was too close, ew, smelly pirate. "M'friend Amiti, y'look a lot like 'im but... he's dead."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"S'okay."

Another drink. Smelly pirate moved away. Good. He smelled bad.

"How?"

"Well y'got the hair, an the-"

"No, the dying."

"Oh, 'is uncle. He wen' an he _crick!_, so I'ma go an I _yack!_ Y'know?" The crick was a thumb being dragged under Eoleo's chin. The yack was both hands making a grabbing and twisting motion, like on a towel.

"Yup."

"N'you? Yer dead but, s'up in Imil?" Oh. Good question.

"Dad's home town." And another drink, probably his last one too, because as soon as he put the glass down it vanished out of his fingers. Why did it run away? "Stayin' with dad's sister-cousin."

"Sister-wha?"

"Iunno, I'm stayin' with 'er."

"Tappin' it?"

"_NO._" Oh no, where'd the magic glass gone? Eoleo's was gone too, he needed more to get that image out of his head. Hey look, bottles!

"Right. Amiti wouldn' tap nothin'." ...Wait.

"Uh. Yeah, yeah he would."

"_Nope. _Not Amiti."

"Wha-" He turned on his stool- or did the stool turn _him?-_ "Why not Amiti?"

"'e was gay."

"WHAT."

"Yeah, he'd go _'training'_ w' Riefy. Girly little guy-girl-guy... thing..." Bottle had a long neck, good for a handle. Bottle, meet smelly pirate head.

_BAM._

* * *

The water was cold. That was the only difference he could think of right away, but more came. The water was cold. No one was speaking- no one was there. And he wasn't consumed in horrible, unrelenting pain.

He'd woken up outside the city then, on his stomach and half-submerged in a warm, stagnant pond. Soldiers were crowded around him, maybe ten of them? They'd been speaking in soft, hushed voices as he felt himself being handled and lifted out of the water. They'd argued, but not fiercely. The words of confused, frightened men.

He didn't feel most of what they did, not until his body was dried off and someone spread something hot and sticky over his back and legs, something that inflamed the deep rents that had been ripped through his flesh. They'd held him down and he knew he'd screamed. Had he cried? Someone had been crying. Maybe they all had.

He hadn't been all there when they finished binding his wrists for him, medicinal leaves adhered to the bleeding joints to numb the pain. More of them had layered his back under the bandages. Someone had given him a shirt, another one folded a pouch into his hand, filled with heavy coins, before taking it away and slipping it into a bag tied to the horse. The bag also held food, water, and other things he couldn't remember anymore. Had Paithos ordered these provisions for him? Somehow, then and now, Amiti knew his uncle hadn't.

The horse had carried him to Tonfon. Amiti had had nothing to do with it.

Memories and dreams like those were the reason why Amiti had refused to drink since landing in Imil. A small drink after a very long day was alright. A touch of something in a hot cup of tea or something else could go a long way. But worse than the memories were the other, assorted reasons, for why he chose not to drink.

Like waking up next to a smelly pirate. Or waking up face-down in the filthy slush, with what felt like a few broken body-parts, after starting what must have been a brawl that he just didn't remember, next to the same _smelly pirate_. These were all very pungent reasons to never, ever, drink again.

Eoleo was conscious before him and sitting up when Amiti came to, and he was either unphased by the morning sunlight or still too drunk to care. By the time Amiti was propped up on his arms well enough to see him, the pirate stood and ambled off until he was just around a warehouse corner. Then there was the gut-wrenching, unmistakable sound of a grown man being violently ill, then he came back. That Eoleo could strut back over and sit himself down listlessly in the same puddle of slush he'd woken up in either demanded respect, or was meant to inspire fear.

No worries though, a few minutes later Amiti was up and had mimicked Eoleo's performance in his own little patch of snow. Sitting down next to the pirate, he felt... let's just say he was _feeling._

"I can't go back like this." He'd vanished for half a day and all night, now he stank of a bar fight and hang-over. He knew he was bruised and filthy, and someone had been kind enough to rip the arm of his robe part-way off.

"Like what?" The description did not warrant repeating.

"I really, really can't go back."

"Back where?"

"To Lady Mia." _The_ Lady Mia? Yes, _the_ Lady Mia.

"Psh, just say what happened." Where Eoleo had found tabacco to chew, Amiti didn't know, nor did he _want_ to know. "You ran into a friend, got drunk, brawled like a man, yadda-yadda." Amiti was quiet for a moment, vaguely wondering how he could feel like crap, but not have a headache.

"They said two ships came into port yesterday. One was you."

"Yep, the other was Captain Piers himself." Closing his eyes, maybe Amiti had spoken too soon. Maybe the headache had just waited for the right moment to strike him square in the back of the skull. If Piers was in Imil, he would visit Mia. If Mia had a visitor, she would tell him about her new apprentice. If Piers heard his name, he would want to see him. Mia would want to know why. And Piers would tell her. He'd tell her everything.

"Eoleo, you still drunk?" A pause, the older man was clearly considering. Then a slow nod.

"Yep."

"Still think I'm dead?"

"Psh. I still _know_ you're dead."

"Right... my point is." He shifted a little in the snow, regretting it since it changed the amount of contact there was between skin and ice water. Not comfortable. "I miss Ayuthay. And my uncle. I can't help but think about it..." But it was just an entire realm of things he shouldn't think about.

"That's not a point. You're still drunk."

"... I think you're right." But he was pretty sure he was hung-over, not drunk. "But I thought someone on the other side should know, right? No point in keeping it secret." The pirate just chuckled and nodded to him, slowly getting to his feet with a degree of balance Amiti knew he couldn't imitate just yet. So he asked, "How long are you in Imil for?"

"Long enough for Captain Piers to run an errand." That's it? "Had to give something to Lady Mia, needed another ship to help break up the ice." What kind of errand would demand that sort of power? And how important could it be for Captain Piers _and_ the Champan King to bring their ships through the ice flows?

Ow- wait- no, nevermind. Too much thinking.

"I'm goin' back to my ship. We sail... I forget, but we sail."

And Eoleo left. That was it. Honest. Those were his parting words. Not even a wave good-bye or a look back over his shoulder. Just gone.

Stupid, smelly pirate.

* * *

He had to keep an eye on the port for the next few days. He had to. Facing Mia was something he was prepared for, but not the captain. The last time he had seen the man was just before he was stripped and shamed by his uncle. Piers had tried to warn him but Amiti had ignored him and had given in to his emotions instead. He couldn't face the man again, not like this.

So he watched, praying that he'd look and find the two dragon-headed ships slowly retreating out of sight over the horizon. But they just sat there, and he couldn't sit too close to the docks in case someone saw him. Food was also an issue in town: very little grew around Imil so he couldn't just forage, and his apprenticeship earned him room, board, and an education, so why would he have taken money from Mia? The solution wasn't _simple_, but it gave him a far-off vantage point from which to watch the harbour, and enough energy to sustain himself over the days that followed.

Part of his training at Mercury Lighthouse was meditation to ensure his mind kept full control over his body. Getting to the tower on his own was an ordeal, but the occasional sip of Hermes water was enough to sustain him physically after the fact. From there, it was just a matter of staying away from the fountain to prevent the temptation of drinking too much of it. During the day, he practiced his psynergy on the lighthouse waters. The regiment he formed included freezing, breaking, spraying, spreading, compacting, along with all the breathing and mental exercises he'd been steadily learning over the last few months. He knew how much of the fountain water he could drink, so rationed it over the hours.

As for the ships... he checked several times a day from the aerie. In order to keep his mind off the cold and his hunger Amiti also took to climbing up through the insides of the lighthouse to reach the beacon, rather than just take the elevators up and down its sides. From the platform he could see the port, and given the size of the dragon-boats compared to the usual fishing trawlers and other vessels, Amiti knew on the third evening he climbed up that it was going to be another frigid night in the tower.

"Damn..." If Piers was determined enough he'd probably just stay until Amiti's endurance ran out. He'd have to go back eventually: no trading ships would be arriving for a few more weeks, and psynergy wouldn't be able to sustain him for that long.

Glancing further westward where the sun was quickly vanishing over the horizon, it would be dark in only a few more minutes, moments even, and then the temperature would really drop. He knew now was the time to head back indoors: the lighthouse lacked heating, but the walls still blocked the wind, and the cold wasn't enough to freeze the water. Still, he just kept standing there until the last few rays of the sun were split over the distant fingers of the Goma Range. If he looked up, he could see stars. Thousands of them, a huge vault encompassing the sky. But he couldn't watch them for very long: the darker the sky grew, the brighter the beacon became in contrast.

"I understand why you chose to hide here." Over the wind and the endless resonance of the beacon at his back, Amiti didn't hear the voice at first. When he did he closed his eyes slowly, a painful grimace covering his face, like he was trying to pry something out of a wound. Opening his eyes again he lifted one hand to shield his eyes from the brilliance of the Mercury Beacon, and turned around. "And Mia either has a very short memory of hiding places, or she doesn't believe you would think like me."

It was very, very hard to see Alex as more than a silhouette against the churning light. Every conceivable shade of blue was a part of the massive vortex lighting the night sky around them. It was almost warm to stand far out near the edge where Amiti was, and the other adept was standing almost at the lip of the great pit over which the beacon hung. But the mask was there, and the robe, and the voice.

"You're saying she knows?"

"As much as the Lemurian will tell her, yes." Amiti turned back out so he could look towards the town. His eyes didn't adjust though, and all he saw was an endless expanse of dark that started at the lip of the aerie. Still, somewhere down there, Mia now knew her apprentice was an exiled prince who had fought alongside her son for several months. Or maybe she'd just know he was a traitor's bastard son. Piers could omit one half of the story or the other, but it was more likely that he'd just told her everything. Either way Amiti was still a liar.

"You came a long way to tell me this."

"You assume I came to see you." There, if he blinked quickly enough to dispel the after-image, he could just make out a few strands of light coming from Imil. He could just pretend he was alone up here. "This place has prospered with the beacon..."

"Prospered? It's sealed off by ice for half the year." No farms, no fruits, it was too cold to cultivate half the herbs Mia used to help-

"Thirty years ago it was sealed off _all_ year." Alex rebuked sharply. "They were on the verge of extinction from an endemic disease when the fountain was finally restored." Amiti felt a flash of anger, just enough heat to remind him that he hadn't frozen solid yet, standing out here in the wind.

"You can't make excuses." He said, turning again and bending his head just enough so his hood blocked most of the glare. "I spent months alongside the children of the Warriors of Vale, even before you revealed yourself I'd still heard of you through them. Saving one town doesn't make up for everything else."

"'_Warriors of Vale'_, what a convenient term." The snide, arrogant tone he was used to returned to Arcanus' words, Amiti still watching him in case the adept made any sudden moves. "Does Imil look anything like Vale to you? Does Kalay? At least the Lemurian can acknowledge Prox's dead as heroes, that's more than the rest." Not moving, Amiti kept himself from tensing as Arcanus slowly shook his head, only realizing now that the man was actually facing the beacon full-on. "Your ignorance astounds me."

Ignorance? After everything that had happened before and during the Eclipse, this man could stand there and accuse him of _ignorance?_ Amiti had ever right to judge: of all the people Alex had ever wronged, he'd fight for his place at the top of the list. Through him were all the hurts done to Veriti, to Paithos, and Ayuthay.

'_I wish mother had hated you as much as I do. I wish you would just go with her into the grave rather than follow me through this mess I've made of my life.'_ He wanted to say it, he almost did before the word '_wish'_ choked him and he abandoned the effort. Amiti turned and walked away.

"Where are you going?"

"Inside. You didn't come to see me." Descending the stairs quickly, it was dangerous to move too fast across the aerie when the wind was blowing, but he pushed his luck and moved lightly over the floating islands to reach the elevator: one slip and he'd fall to his death. The large zol platform required that he stand in the centre of a faded glyph to active at it, a hum starting up that would need a few moments to take effect.

"Amiti." The platform had just begun to fall when Amiti looked up and saw Alex toss something. It was large and in the dark there was no way for him to know what it was, so he didn't try to catch it. It hit the platform a few feet away from him, a small sack filled with something that didn't break or bounce. By the time he looked back up, his father was gone.

He didn't approach or touch it until after the elevator came to a stop at the base of the tower. A sack, it was woven from heavy burlap that could be used to carry anything really. But it wasn't heavy, so it was easy for him to carry back inside the lighthouse once the elevator was steady. Finding the small, reasonably dry room where he'd been spending most of his nights asleep or in meditation, he undid the string and went over the contents. They surprised him.

A loaf of bread, a pad of frozen butter, a portion of smoked meat, and a small metal flask filled with vodka. It was dark in the lighthouse but he could still make out that the flask was silver in colour, an elaborate heart-shape embossed on the front and back, a positive and negative of the symbol Arcanus so commonly wore. The shape was typical, square but with a curve along the front and back. Amiti didn't know enough about northern alcohol to judge the quality of the vodka inside by taste, let alone just by smell, but it was strong. He replaced the items back in the sack, pushing the bundle into a corner and then sat down opposite it, staring first at the wall and then at the supplies. He felt frozen, or maybe he just wished he would finally freeze over and stop having to think so much.

Amiti didn't move again until he had to. Didn't eat until he knew his stomach was twisting around with nothing but hot acid inside. Refused to try the vodka until his body wouldn't stop shivering uncontrollably. He didn't think about why the food was there and he didn't think about how long it was supposed to last him. He just didn't think, he absolutely refused to think.

_'He came to see me.'_ Don't think.

* * *

**There we go, I fixed what was going to be an incredibly short (but lulzy imo) chapter by throwing the first chunk of the NEXT chapter into this one. The combination helps keep time-line segments straight, since otherwise chapters 5 and 6 were going to be bridged by what was almost the same conversation.**

**Yay for figuring things out! Leave a review if I missed something that makes the transition too awkward, or leave a review if you liked what you read! OR JUST LEAVE A REVIEW KK?**


	5. I'm Ashamed

**Time. Derris Kharlan Remix.**

* * *

_**Imil**_

I'm Ashamed

Two days later, Amiti checked the aerie and the dragon-boats were gone. He hadn't seen Alex again after that one night.

The trek back across the tundra consumed the very last of his rationed supplies, and it didn't actually end once he reached the edge of the town. He still had to walk _through_ Imil to reach the house, so his journey wasn't finished until he got there. At least the sky was clear, so it was bright but not snowing. Still cold, what the locals would call '_brisk_' but what a sane person still identified as freezing. Snow had fallen on-and-off during the week he'd been gone, so the streets were as treacherous as ever as he finally reached the slanted house resting atop its little gated hill.

The front door, as usual, was left unlocked. The change was that the mild squeal of the hinge had gotten worse, letting off a terrible shriek when he pushed it open and stepped into the mud-room. Shutting the door again behind him the dank space was as dark and cramped as ever, but it was still warmer than the lighthouse.

Amiti pried off his gloves and undid his scarf for the first time in days, unbuckling his robe with numb fingers and set that with his un-mended jacket on their pegs. He would stitch the arm back on later, once he could feel his hands again. He knew someone was visiting because there was another set of robes hanging next to Mia's, so they were probably Megan's: the two women were good friends. Amiti took a moment for himself before moving through the next door and up the small number of stairs. He couldn't enter and act as if nothing had happened, but he didn't have to slink in like a guilty child either.

There was no conversation when he entered, but there was warmth from that massive hearth that hit his exposed hands and face like a blessing. Even if he was screamed at, it wouldn't matter so long as it happened in this room.

After the heat however, the first thing he saw was the bare nail on the wall next to the fire: the Ice Queen was gone. Piers had probably seen it hanging there and decided to take it with him. Amiti couldn't resent the decision.

"Lady Mia?" It took him a minute to find her standing over by her herb-table. She'd frozen when he walked in, staring over the half-moon eye-glasses she sometimes wore, her cleaver suspended part-way through a bundle of thyme.

"Coatlicue... _Amiti!_" Not finishing her brief prayer, he watched her drop the blade and hurry over to him. He was about to say something when she opened her arms and pulled him into an unexpected hug. "Thank the gods! We thought you might have boarded a ship, or been injured someplace, or even maybe-"

"No, no I'm fine. I just-" He was being hugged, it was a very strange thing both because he wasn't used to it, and hadn't expected it from her. It was still better than being shouted at though, and she let him go soon enough. Mia kept her hands on his arms and squeezed firmly for a moment, trying to scowl at him- but the expression just melted away again as her eyes ran up and down over him, checking for injuries and probing his face for signs of illness. She found none except the obvious.

"You're freezing, here, sit down." She tugged and pulled on his arm until Amiti lowered himself onto one of the wooden chairs kept close to the fire for guests. He tried to argue but then instinctively held his hands out towards the heat, aware of her hovering right next to his shoulder and her thin hand gripping the back of the chair. He fought to ignore it for a few moments of silence, but then pulled his hands back and turned in his seat so he could look up at her.

"Lady Mia, I'm sorry I-"

"You know, you could have at least told me how my son was." She wasn't looking at him, or maybe she was just trying not to, her jade eyes staring past him into the hearth. "I hadn't heard anything from him since before the Eclipse, not until this week. You knew that."

"I..." Yes, he'd known that. She'd mentioned it very briefly whenever Nowell and Rief had come up at all in conversation. Amiti hadn't felt like he could say anything concrete, just that he'd known Rief to be in Ayuthay for a time after the cataclysm. Dropping his forehead into the palm of one hand, he rubbed his face slowly with the cold skin, not sure whether his hand or his face was the warm one. His eyes felt tight. "I'm sorry."

He heard her take in a breath and almost speak, but she abandoned whatever it was for now. She knew about Rief, so working back from there she knew he'd travelled and fought alongside her son and the other warriors' children. The rest of it would come out eventually if she didn't already know, but maybe if Alex had been kept a secret, he wouldn't have to deal with quite so much all at once.

For the first time all week he found himself remembering the errand he'd been sent on just before the ships had appeared. Was that a common opinion of Alex? The usual memory or response? How strong did the memory linger anyways? How many people looked at him and thought they, maybe, could see something in his face? Amiti had taken that risk when he decided to come to Imil in the first place, but after so many months he'd just convinced himself that no one would figure out the connection.

How much of this could have been his own mind blowing everything out of proportion? Maybe if he hadn't been cussed out of an old woman's home, Amiti might have convinced himself it was all just in his head.

"You're home now." Mia said, and he sat up a little as he felt a reassuring hand squeeze his shoulder. He took some comfort in her words, but his head still hurt. He needed to just stop thinking for a few minutes and then it would go away. "That's what's most important." And now footsteps, he could hear them- then they came to a sudden stop.

"I thought you said teaching him a _lesson_ was most important." Looking up quickly, Amiti found himself staring although he didn't mean to. The gears in his head stopped turning almost immediately, but instead of alleviating his headache, it just came roaring back life.

"Nowell, please." First, before mother or daughter said anything else, he saw that Nowell was _furious_. Her arms were straight and stiff at her sides, thin hands curled into tight, shaking fists. Even the two short braids coming down behind her ears looked like they were humming with hate. Nowell's pale complexion was fighting between white and red, and there was an electric spark in her blue eyes, pink lips pursed so tight they should have been going blue.

Her dress mirrored her mother's in some respects: the long, full woollen skirts that were dyed a pale cornflower blue with a white hem, over slim white boots that had a heavy ruffle around the ankle and extending up out of sight to keep her legs warm. Her bodice was tighter though, hugging her hips and sides all the way up to just under her arms, where her shoulders were covered in a thick, fleecy white wrap that was shorter in the front and dipped down almost to her elbows. Dark blue sleeves ending at the wrists, and no gloves because she was inside.

"_No, Mother!_ He lied to you, and I know you're going to just forgive it, but _I'm not!_" Why was she even here? Piers had left, so Nowell would have gone with him- she was infatuated with the man, and he was patient enough to keep her around no matter how obviously she- "And DON'T look at me like that, Amiti!"

"Nowell-" It was his turn to try, standing up carefully, as if she might attack if he made any sudden movements. Mia sighed softly, stepping up to her daughter- only to have Nowell bat her mother's hand away with a sharp swipe. This surprised her, and the older woman just stood there as the younger one started to advance on him.

"Don't _talk-_ don't say anything! How _dare_ you come here! My mother's house! My _brother's room!_" Amiti stood his ground against her until Nowell got close enough to fling one small fist at him, knocking him in the shoulder hard enough that it _actually _hurt. Mia was just staring, as if waiting for him to react, and so was Amiti. She'd _hit him_.

"Hey!"

"_**NO!**"_ And she was loud. The sound was like a siren that pinched him between the eyes and sent an echo of pain beating around in his skull. She wasn't done though: "After that _asinine_ stunt you pulled running away from everyone- and then that- that _scene_ with your uncle! After all of that you think you can just _vanish! ?_" Her every word just kept resounding- "Just completely disappear when we tried so hard looking for you- when we asked _everybody_ if they'd seen you, or knew where you'd gone, or where you were staying! _NOTHING! _You just ran away! AGAIN!"

The blur that Mia had become moved in now, getting close enough to set her hands on Nowell's shoulders and start to turn the irate girl around. She said something in a loud, commanding voice, but then her daughter just answered with another shriek, another bellow, another thunder-clap between his ears. Then Mia tried again, louder, and Nowell just-

"_SHUT UP!" _Pain, the pain, he was in too much of it right now. His head felt like it was splitting open and his composure was thrashed trying to cope with it. He was tired, hungry and cold- always cold, he hadn't been properly warm and comfortable since he'd boarded the ship in Tonfon. No- he hadn't been _comfortable_ since he'd last woken up at home. In his bed, in his room, in his palace, in his city-

"Just _shut up, Nowell!_ I've spent five days sitting in the lighthouse waiting for you people to leave-" They stopped, they were staring at him. Amiti just closed his eyes as tight as he could and changed how his hands were gripping his head- he didn't remember lifting his arms. "So you hate me, so I'm a coward- _fine! Just shut up!_ Just, please, for the love of Iris, _be quiet._"

He could hear _everything._ From the wooden boards bending and creaking under his weight to the sharp rustle of wool as Nowell wrenched herself free from her mother's grasp, hissing _'Let go of me!' _at her before she stormed past them both. The mudroom door opened smoothly, but Amiti felt his sense of balance go as she slammed the door shut again with as much power as her tiny body could muster. His knee touched the floor and he knelt like that for a few moments, listening to the blood scream through his ears and the faint whistle of air passing through his lungs.

"...Let me see your head."

"No." He stood up as soon as he heard Mia shift, one eye slit open so he could roughly make out where he was.

"Amiti-"

"I said no." Nowell had gone out the front door, Amiti went the opposite way; hurrying up the stairs that would take him to the rooms on the second floor- he stopped half-way up. "Is Rief back?" There was a long pause from the floor below, but he knew Mia had heard him.

"Just Nowell."

He went upstairs. He hoped Mia would follow her daughter instead.

* * *

Rief's room was small, much like he'd imagined it would be, but with fewer books than Amiti had suspected. It was live-able, and even after spending an entire season sleeping in his friend's room Amiti was satisfied with how little he had actually moved or changed in the space.

Rief's books for the most part remained untouched, although Amiti had read one or two of them, and he'd left all of his friend's little drawings and sketches pinned up on the walls where the young healer had put them. There was a desk that was the only space Amiti actually used- and even then he never sat down to write or make anything up here. At any one time the desk just held his knife and headband when he slept, or a belt he might want to repair. Even the chart posted by the small window was left alone, though Amiti had spent a bit of time trying to figure out what Rief was trying to accomplish. He hadn't had much success, but had something to do with the windmill on the roof outside the window, that much he knew.

If he hadn't spent four months at sea before arriving in Imil, the small bed would have taken some getting used to. But it was longer than he was tall and held so many extra blankets on it that Amiti didn't care if he couldn't spread either arm out all the way when he climbed in at night. He'd stopped hearing the ticking sound of the windmill only a few nights after his arrival. Most importantly, by virtue of having one side of the main chimney flu take up a corner of the small space, the air was actually warm more often than not.

But right now it was quiet. That was what mattered. Mia had gone chasing after Nowell and Amiti was alone in a quiet house, his head on a flat pillow and his arms wrapped around his torso to try and conserve a little extra heat. He hadn't climbed under the blankets or removed his boots and sweater, he just needed to lay down and stop thinking. Nowell, Alex, Piers, Mia... he put them out of his sore mind. He didn't think about having to leave if Nowell was going to act like that around him, he didn't think about how he felt when she screamed at him. He didn't think about what had looked like tears in her eyes before he screamed back at her. He didn't think. Didn't think. Didn't think.

He was almost asleep in this state before he heard the door behind him swing open a little, then completely. Someone came inside and he couldn't hear the amplified sound of shifting cloth anymore, but could sense a strong presence. Not Nowell, and he locked Alex out of his mind: the man wouldn't be there.

Mia sat down on the edge of the bed, he felt her weight on the blankets. He could smell the food she'd brought with her, but didn't move as the earthen plate knocked gently on the small table next to the bed. There was no point in feigning sleep, so Amiti slowly swung his legs down off the opposite edge of the bed, pretending his head didn't hurt as he sat up, hands gripping the edge of the mattress to steady himself. He didn't say anything and Mia was quiet for several minutes, to the point where Amiti was considering laying down again. Then she spoke.

"Piers didn't want to tell me why you left your kingdom. Nowell did after you went missing." Kingdom. He heard the soft hesitation as she spoke, but he just let her talk, he wasn't going to interrupt. "Up until she spoke, I was going to be mad at you when you returned. For not telling me who you were, _what_ you were. That you'd fought alongside my Rief, and travelled with Garet, Isaac, and Ivan's children." Another pause, a brief moment to collect her thoughts. "She was worried about you, and I've never seen Piers so conflicted before he went out looking for where you'd gone. ...I know she's angry now, but she was scared then."

Her words fell off into silence after that. Amiti knew she was waiting for him to react, but he couldn't manage it. It was easier to just keep blocking everything out right now, wait until he'd rested and eaten before trying to think things through. He didn't even know if he was mad at Nowell for turning on him like that, just that he was tired. But there was something else Mia wanted to say, he could hear it, maybe even sense her hand stretching out slowly towards his back.

"...Don't." He didn't like feeling her eyes on his spine, didn't want her fingers hovering close to him. "They're old, they don't hurt." He found himself rubbing his wrists again, that nervous habit he just did sometimes, a tell he'd developed and knew he had to get rid of, although he didn't know how or why. He wasn't a prince anymore, it didn't matter if people knew when he was uneasy.

"What your uncle did was wrong."

"Kings are never wrong." He answered quickly, but without heat. "Paithos is a good king, and I was not a good prince. I know what I did, I didn't then but I've had time to think about it. Things were complicated, and how I reacted was wrong." That was all he wanted to say on the matter, he didn't like talking about it. But Amiti knew _she_ wanted to keep talking, and quietly waited for her to make whatever remark she wanted. It just never came.

"Alright." Was all she said.

Good. It was good that she dropped it. He shut his eyes slowly and rolled his head to one side, rubbing the back of his neck where it had grown stiff, finding himself careful about not pushing the collar of his shirt down far enough to expose the upper part of one scar. Some had traveled up his neck, but had avoided slashing anything vital. He felt Mia stand up slowly, and before she left he spoke up.

"If Nowell doesn't want me here, tell her I'll leave as soon as the next merchant ship makes port. It's her house." Glancing carefully over his shoulder, Amiti saw Mia stand there for a moment with her hand on the knob, then look at him curiously. She almost smiled.

"Actually, it's _my_ house." And then she left.

* * *

**So I looked up a quick video of DD and screamed when I saw that Nowell's hair is actually like ankle-long. I unfortunately have so many references, explicit and absent, to her hair throughout all three parts that it would be a huge bother right now to edit it out. I'll fix it when I do the big promised edit of all three parts, like when I fix Paithos and some other things, so just be patient and forgive the silly author.**

**Hey! At least I looked up official art of Mia and noticed her eyes are green- not blue! Next update on Saturday!  
**


	6. I'm Competing

**Just a Dream.**

**Woah, status update: Part 3 is already at chapter 11 as I post this up, and it's seriously not done yet. Heavily considering making a Part 4. Just thought I'd keep you guys posted about that.**

**Now! I'm not sure if the page-breaks in this chapter are necessary as I originally wrote it without them. If they bother you, leave a review and I'll edit them out.**

* * *

_**Imil**_

I'm Competing

It turned out that the one thing Mia would not, absolutely _would not_ tolerate, was fighting under her roof. Or in her yard. Or on her street. Or in her patients' houses. Or anywhere between one edge of the world and the other. Mia reigned supreme when it came to controlling other peoples' tempers.

For starters, she would _freeze _sharp tongues. Literally. Amiti experienced this first-hand after a short spat between him and Nowell about fire-wood was quelled by the matron. It would have been fine if he hadn't demanded the last word once her back was turned- his lips had been blue for the rest of the day. Nowell's charming critique of him setting a young man's arm a week later had not only succeeded in terrifying both Amiti and the patient, but after she ignored her mother's warning to be quiet Nowell got to walk around shivering all afternoon with her hair soaking wet.

All of this stemmed from the fact that it was almost impossible for them to get along. Amiti was patient, yes, but he could only be pushed so hard until he had to push back, and when he found himself in a position where he couldn't use his strength to defend himself, he had to rely on his voice: loudly. But screaming just meant that Nowell's temper, as he ought to have already known, just flew higher whenever he stood up for himself. It was a viscous cycle. Every time she looked at him he knew- he just _knew-_ what she was thinking. She blamed him for whatever had happened in Ayuthay after his exile- not that she would tell him what it was, and he certainly couldn't _ask_ her. Their civil conversations were always short-lived, usually just enough for one to ask the other to hold or pass something, or to make a very mild comment about the weather. They didn't speak if they didn't have to.

"You were a lot nicer when I was a prince." This had not been one of those civil conversations.

"_What?_" It was late-spring, which meant it was almost warm, but there was still too much melting snow everywhere to make getting around any easier. They had just finished delivering the last batch of medicine for the day to an elderly couple on the edge of town, and were walking back to the house.

"In Ayuthay, you were a lot nicer, I actually_ liked_ being around you." He was still the one pulling the sled. Whether it was because he was a junior-apprentice compared to Nowell, or just a young man, he didn't know. Either way it was something to keep his attention on instead of letting it drift back too far through memories. _This _was the girl he'd liked?

"Well, then the _same to you_." She sniped back, Amiti rolling his eyes carelessly over a row of houses. "You were much nicer when you were accountable."

"Accountable." Right.

"Yes, back when you had _responsibilities_. And _honour_ and _duty, _and all those other little-"

"You don't know anything about that." He stopped walking and gave her a harsh look, watching as Nowell went on a few more steps before wheeling around, arms folded under the tight bodice she was wearing. Lavender today. Different colours, always the same style. "I was trying to do the right thing."

"You got scared and wanted your uncle to let you out of being royalty." The look she gave him was black, just black and venomous. "And when he went overboard, you ran away."

"_Exile_ is not running."

"No, but it's what you wanted."

That conversation had included a lot of screaming before it ended, and it ended with him bruising her arm when he grabbed and whipped her around to face him. He just shouted, and shouted, and kept shouting until he saw a look in her eyes that made him stop. It wasn't understanding, not really, it was closer to fear that he'd actually hurt her, like he'd fallen far enough to do something like that. Then Amiti realized that he'd descended to the point of man-handling a woman and screaming in public. He didn't know what to do with that knowledge.

She ran away when he let her go, and Amiti had just sat there in the snow for an hour, maybe two, until Mia had come down the lane and calmly walked him home. He was silent and she respected that, he didn't try to give his side of the story, there was only one.

They didn't talk about that day.

* * *

Mia made them work together a lot. If Nowell was crushing herbs, Amiti was assigned to chopping them. If he was cutting new bandages, she was told to roll them. When one of Imil's oldest residents had finally run her course, the two of them were sent to sit at her bedside for two days to make sure her passage was completely free of pain.

That task came in the summer, or what passed for summer in Imil. Enough of the snow was gone that the roads were mud and slush, and there were green things growing in the pots and boxes that appeared overnight outside every house. Every morning there was another new ship in the harbour, bringing teas, spices, flour, sugar, cloth, and other things luxurious and not. And on those same mornings other ships would be leaving, their hulls filled with seal pelts and whale oil, cured fish, and diluted casks of Hermes water. The town had a tax on it: gallons and gallons of Hermes water. Imil had prospered in thirty years. In summer it was a city, there was music, people danced, there were celebrations when the first small ships arrived and festivals whenever more than four households decided to try cooking at the same time.

This season turned out to be Amiti's favourite in Imil, but that one night together with Nowell shouldn't have had the same status. It was alright that the discussion functioned almost like a turning point, but no one should ever look back on a death and think of it as a good moment: it was disrespectful.

"The crowd thought you were dead..." They had arrived there early that morning, claimed their seats next to the wall on one side of the wide bed where the woman lay. It took until the family members had all retired, and the moon had risen half-way across the sky, before Nowell actually spoke to him.

"...What crowd?" Had he fallen asleep? His arms were folded over his chest and his head had been hanging forward- his neck hurt as he slid himself back on the chair, stifleing a yawn.

"The one that watched." He looked at her but Nowell's eyes were on the woman's sleeping chest, watching the blankets rise and fall, counting. "You'd stopped responding, and there was so much blood." Oh. That crowd... Amiti ignored the uncomfortable sting that crawled up his back, and joined her in counting breaths. There was silence.

"I heard screaming." He admitted.

"I've tried forgetting the sounds. People were throwing themselves at the guards trying to get to you." She looked at him, shifting uncomfortably in her seat before pursing her lips. There was a window in the wall behind them- not a large one, this was Imil, but there was moonlight in the space between her shoulder and his. "When the spearmen came out it just..."

"Spearmen?" Now he looked at her properly, not just out the corner of his eye. "I never heard of any-"

"I think they only wanted to scare people back, but the crowd just..." She shook her head quickly and kept her eyes trained on the bed. Her braids were swinging out of sync as she lifted one hand up and crossed it over her chest, holding the opposite shoulder. He looked away from her and stared at nothing, reaching up over his headband and running his fingers back through his hair once.

"How many died?"

"The riots didn't stop until after night-fall, Amiti." Riots. In the core. In Ayuthay. How was that even possible? "There was still unrest in the morning. No one knows the number." But they all thought he was one of them. Hadn't Eoleo said something about his being a ghost? It was too long ago for him to remember.

"Because of me."

"It's hard not to hate you for it." Her voice broke just a little now, and he leaned forward again: holding his face in his hands with elbows pressing into his knees. "...You really didn't know?" She had her hand on his shoulder, then let it move down his arm a bit to hold on through his thick grey sweater. Sitting up just a little, his opposite hand snaked around and took hers. She didn't pull away. He didn't hold on too tight. He just shook his head quickly, blinking several times to fight off the sharp, stinging sensation in his eyes.

"No." His voice felt hoarse, but if he cleared it too loudly he might wake up their patient. They were here for her, not each other. "No, I... I woke up surrounded by soldiers, outside the walls." He explained it from there, having his wounds wrapped, and being slung over a horse where he'd been tied so he didn't fall off. "I think I had a fever when I woke up, I was just somewhere out on the plateau and thought I was going to wander forever." The horse had found the Sana-bound caravan, people from Kaocho who were abandoning the region to return to their old home. "I should have died."

"Your psynery probably kept the infection from spreading..." Or his brain from frying in the heat, or his heart from bursting from the stress.

They didn't say much after that. Nowell fell asleep after a while, Amiti couldn't. He let her rest with her head on his shoulder, even leaned in a little because she was so quiet. They held each other's hand until the village matron ran out of breaths for them to count.

* * *

Things weren't good after that, but they were better. Nowell never accused him of running away again, and maybe he could understand part of the way she looked at him. She still lost her temper with him sometimes, but it was less often, and it wasn't about silly things like using the wrong knot on the sled or not stacking the wood properly by the fire.

They could talk now, but he still felt a weight overhead, suspended there, waiting to drop. It was a burden he'd put down when he came to Imil, but now she acted like a permanent reminder. The house wasn't big enough for him to avoid her for more than an hour at a time, and the town wasn't much better. The past was difficult to reconcile, almost impossible: how could he argue against fact? His mistake had turned him into a deadly exhibition. Nowell might be asked to forgive him for leaving Ei-Jei, but there would have been no riot without the his punishment. And Amiti wouldn't have been punished if he hadn't spoken out of line: neither of them could let him forget that.

"What did your pedigree have to do with it anyways?" No, she wouldn't even let him forget when he was wielding a very sharp, very heavy axe.

"_What?_"

It was one of the very few days that summer where Amiti didn't need to wear a sweater. It was one of the very few days when Nowell and her mother weren't suffocated in wool. It was actually _warm._ The sun was out, there was no snow, and there was no mud either. The copse of trees stretching out beyond the house was actually green for once, alive, and not that dull matte that soaked into every needle either. There were long bunches of pine-cones hanging from the branches as well, seed-pods ready to drop and plant more trees while the weather was actually hospitable.

"Your father. What did that have to do with the crown?" Nowell was sitting with some mending in her lap, a basket waiting one side, two piles inside for items fixed and those that needed fixing.

"It wasn't an excuse, if that's what you mean." Her comment had caused the axe to chip off the log and strike the dirt. If he'd struck his own leg by accident Amiti wouldn't have been above blaming Nowell for it. Wiping the blade off on his thumb, he checked the edge to make sure it had struck no stones before lining the swing up again, properly cleaving the dried wood in two.

"It sounded like one." How? She hadn't even _been _there. Not for all of it anyways.

"You know I fell into the river?" He answered, hoping she would keep up with the tangent. It took her a second, long enough for her to re-thread her needle, but then she looked up, expecting him to continue. "Alex dropped me and I caught onto an edge. He told me to give him the Insight Glass or he'd let me fall in."

"...So you _gave in?_" He pulled out of the swing before it could go wide and actually slash his leg, taking a few steps back to dispel the momentum before he gave her a flat look. She looked expectant.

"I _let go_." Clearing that up, he lined the axe up again. This was easier without the talking "I thought you and your brother fished me out down-river until Rief told me the whole story afterwards." So it wasn't quite falling, but he'd still hit the water after the ultimatum. He remembered that. He split the next piece of wood and tried and make himself forget.

"But you were still on the bridge when we got there..."

"Yeah." That was enough axe-swinging for now. Bending down to collect the different sized pieces he'd cut already, Amiti looked up with his burden and saw her holding the needle limply in one hand, the shirt she'd been mending resting in her lap.

"He saved you?"

"Twice." She blinked, tilting her head just slightly, lips parted like she wanted to ask a question. "He came to me when I was hiding in the lighthouse."

"Wait- you mean he was _here?_" Amiti nodded, carrying the wood past her and in through the open door to the mudroom. He was busy stacking and organizing the pieces by width and length when she came up behind him, just inside the door. "In Imil?"

"Yes."

"With my mother _and_ Captain Piers here?"

"Yes, Nowell. He was here. I spoke to him up on the aerie." She'd left her mending and was fiddling with the front of her dress now. Her face expressed confusion as the pink tip of her tongue traced a line along the inside of her lips.

"But he didn't try to kill you..." It was a question, maybe? He shook his head to be safe, hands resting on his sides as he stood there to give himself a short break. "He _helped you?"_ Now he nodded.

"I had no food. He brought me that, and this." Glancing around quickly, Nowell mimicked him anxiously. They both knew Mia would be gone for most of the day, there had been a birth that she said she needed to attend to on her own, and it was better for them to enjoy the good weather or something. Kneeling down, Amiti hiked up his pant-leg and reached inside his boot.

The flask was thin enough that it fit there most of the time. Amiti wasn't sure why he carried it around with him, it was probably better off being buried in the woods somewhere, but like his dagger it was never very far from him. He held it out to her and watched her turn the bottle over between her hands. He wasn't sure what kind of metal it was made of, but it didn't rust and hadn't tarnished or corroded at all. It was a shiny silver, the positive and negative images of Arcanus' ace symbol still polished and clear.

"So this... this is actually _his."_ She sounded repulsed by this, nerves written over her face before she quickly stuck her hand out so he'd take it away. Which he did, returning it to its place against his leg before he stood up again. He teased her a little with his smile as he watched her rub her palms on her skirt, like she wanted to wipe away the feel of it. "So he keeps coming near you, is that your point?" Essentially, yes.

"He's had at least four opportunities where he's had me alone, two of which he fought and could have killed me." This was the man who had started the Grave Eclipse, that couldn't be emphasized enough. "What would keep him from attacking someone near me, or threaten to do it, if I refused to obey some order from his '_High Empyror'_? He could do it."

"He could..." She was thinking, he could see it and held himself back from speaking, folding his arms slowly and just watching the way the sun played off her appearance instead. Her hair looked almost white in the yellow summer sunshine, like it was glowing. Her manners were the type to change drastically from one day to the next, but her face was still pretty. "Do you think he knew you escaped? From Ayuthay, I mean."

"Uuh..." That was... not something he'd thought about. "He didn't announce himself right away on the lighthouse, if that's what you mean." It was such a long time ago already, Amiti had to struggle to go back that far and really _remember_ what it had been like on the aerie. "I guess... it was like he would have been there anyways... I think he likes the beacon."

"He _likes it?"_

"Well, he fired it, didn't he?" He laughed at the look on her face, she looked shocked and revolted. "Nowell..."

"You can see _our house_ from up there. _Ugh..._" She gave a shudder, and Amiti didn't know if it was a genuine reaction or an exaggerated one. Either way, she was looking past his shoulder as she said it, leaning outside just enough to see around the corner of the house where, off in the distance, the lighthouse was visible as a shadowed rod protruding from the distant peninsula.

"Nowell." He felt his smile fall off and watched her turn her attention back to him curiously. Before she could move away Amiti took one of her hands, holding it in both of his carefully, knowing she could pull away, aware that she probably would. "I know that... I made a terrible mistake." He had one hand over hers, the other below with their palms together. She was watching him closely, blue eyes flickering back and forth from his face to their hands. She looked tense, but not angry, so he continued.

"Apologizing to you doesn't fix what happened to the people I hurt. But that doesn't make what I did wrong." Now she was looking only at him, and she took a step closer so her arm wasn't held quite so straight. "It just means that if I could do it again, I'd do it differently."

Nowell moved up until there wasn't more than a step between them, their hands clasped in the middle. She took a breath and looked off elsewhere, lifting her free-hand up part way before she finally exhaled and lightly clapped it down over his.

"I believe you." She admitted, it sounded difficult to say, but still real. She looked everywhere but at him for a few moments before her eyes could meet his again. He tried to smile at her, aware that his face was out of practice when it came to showing things he didn't feel. Looking down when he felt her tugging at something, he tried to say something before her nimble fingers undid the knot holding the cloth strip around his wrist. He didn't bind his hands as heavily as before, it wasn't cold enough out now.

She pushed his sleeve up a little bit once the cloth came away, the sun made the white scars stand out even more against his skin. He wasn't much darker than her anymore, her fingers cradling his wrist while her other hand skimmed over the imperfect marks slashed and cut just under his wrist. He'd been bound just below the small bump where the arm and hand connected, so that was where the scars had formed. Nowell didn't say anything for a few moments, just rubbed her hand over the abused area. It didn't hurt anymore, but he let her sooth the calloused skin anyways. Her hands were warm.

"I forgive you." She said quietly. Very, very quietly.

"Thank you." Now he didn't have to force the smile, although it wasn't a very big one. He watched her nod quickly, her eyes on their hands where she still hadn't let go. Amiti knew better, but he looked down too at where his hand was sandwiched between her palms. He slowly pushed his fingers forward until they were lightly curled around her wrist, able to feel her arm just inside the cuff of her sleeve. Glancing at her quickly, Nowell's eyes were on his other hand now, the one hanging at his side. He used it to pluck her thin hand off the top of his wrist, hearing her take a sharp breath before she snatched it back- but just the one, the first hand didn't move from his grasp. She looked at him before she spoke, breathing in short bursts, a little stiff but not moving away. Her voice wasn't strong when she spoke.

"I really, really thought you'd died." He felt her fingers on his arm, gripping through the sleeve and squeezing lightly, like she thought he was going to go away. Nowell didn't say anything else, and Amiti didn't expect her to, his hand reaching up to her face- but then it just stopped before he touched her. She was watching, looked almost like she was waiting for it, but instead he just tugged on her wrist so she'd come closer.

"I'm not dead." When he'd kissed her in Ayuthay, it had been an impulse. Hugging her right now was deliberate. It wasn't sudden, not really, and it lasted long enough for them to both relax a little. It wasn't fierce, there was no tight gripping, they remained almost perfectly still until it was just time to let go. But it wasn't really a friendship hug either, not when it was over and his hands stayed on her shoulders before slowly sliding down her arms. Not when her fingers gently picked something off his chest, tugging on his tunic just a little to make sure it was even straighter. She wouldn't have hugged Rief like that. He didn't really know how he knew that.

"Are we okay now?" He asked carefully, once they were finally separate.

"Yes, yes now I..." She came up with something to say, Amiti just didn't hear it. He didn't remind her of the mending sitting outside either, just went back outside to finish his chores while she vanished up into the house for something.

So they were okay now. Things were finally good.

* * *

**Wooo! Yes, I just covered like four-five months all in one chapter, but that was a LONG one too! Almost ten pages before I did some content shuffling. **

**Read and Review! See you at the next update!**


	7. I'm Deceived

**Time.**

**Okay, there really shouldn't be a reason why I have to submit an error report to FF every time I want to update this story. Seriously? Don't make me pull out the oldbie-rant!**

* * *

_**Imil**_

I'm Deceived

Somehow things were still _not_ good between them, although he'd been sure they would be. They weren't fighting anymore, Mia noticed that part instantly over the next few days and celebrated the fact openly, but they still weren't _good._

Something new had crept into Nowell's thoughts and now reared its ugly head whenever they might have been doing well. Mia still paired them up to work on the same tasks a lot of the time, and now they could spend most of a monotonous afternoon talking instead of fuming. But then, some how, for some reason, something would strike a cord in Nowell and she would go completely silent. She would look guilty and refuse to answer anything he said, and it wouldn't matter what he did or tried, she'd stay like that until something equally unremarkable snapped her out of it. But he could still try.

"I shouldn't have touched you." There, was that it? Was that the problem? That had to be it, he couldn't think of what else might be clouding the air and stifling her. "In Ayuthay. You were Rief's sister and I didn't know we were cousins. Second-cousins." He corrected himself quickly, then stopped talking. In his mind he was trying to count generations. Second cousins meant they shared a set of Great-grandparents, not grandparents, right?

The only time Amiti didn't have to pull the sled was when he and Nowell were sent together to Mercury Lighthouse for Hermes water. This was because in summer the sled wouldn't work and they had a cart and a borrowed mule. Because it was safer now Nowell only came with him because the road was long and sketchy enough that Mia didn't want either of them travelling alone- no danger of freezing, but what if a wheel fell off and stranded one of them? The weather was still warm with a clear sky, but when you moved out across the peninsula the effect of the sun was cancelled out by the ocean. The wind forced them to bundle up with heavy jackets, gloves and boots, so it was almost like winter save for Nowell's skirts which were lighter than her winter wear, and Amiti's lack of scarf. Having company still made the day go by faster though, at least until she suddenly went dark on him again just as they came within sight of the tower's steps. She waited until they were actually there at the lighthouse before answering.

"Why would you say that...?" She was holding the feed bag for the mule while he unloaded the two empty barrels, and Amiti paused with the first one in front of him when she spoke up. Nowell hooked the bag's handles over the animal's grey ears and gave it a short rub on the head, catching up to him slowly.

"Isn't that what's bothering you?" Filling the barrels was the easy part, and once he had the first one set up under the fountain's spout he could turn around and lean back on the blue tiles, arms folded and waiting for a reply. When she didn't answer, he continued. "Either way then I'm sorry."

"Well you shouldn't be." Her voice was stern, but then it looked like she heard what she'd said and flushed a bright scarlet. It was not the reaction he expected, and Amiti let that show on his face. "I- I mean you _should_ because it was rude- I mean it was _really rude- _I was asleep!" Yes, and now he was sorry for it. "But that- it- that's not what's wrong." She stomped her way up to the wall where he was leaning, face pink and lips pursed, but then turned and slunk down to sit with her back against the wall, next to the filling barrel.

"Then what's wrong?" Amiti let himself slide down the wall and sit next to her, watching Nowell tug on one of her braids anxiously, looking off at nothing. "Nowell." He reached for the hand that was fidgeting nervously in her lap, both of them sitting with their knees up, facing out towards the rocky cliffs and cold ocean beyond. She let him touch her, in fact she even wove her fingers through his and squeezed lightly. But she wouldn't look at him, pursing her pink lips together tightly as her eyes stayed trained on some random spot.

"I can't tell you." She answered, her voice and eyes both sharp, trained on whatever it was over in the distance. Freeing his hand from hers, he watched her look off to the other side away from him and huff at something, then slid his arm around her shoulders. She tensed at the advance and then shook a little, not on purpose, before she scooted a little closer and curled up with her knees tight against her chest. She looked mad now, but when he tried to get his arm back he felt her lean back a little, pinning it between the wall and her shoulders until he stopped trying to pull and settled his hand around her arm instead. "Amiti, I just can't tell you."

"Why not?" Looking down as she slid a little lower against the wall, all he could see was her hair, bright azure strands all trying to escape their tight braids, some even floating rebelliously in the fast wind. He watched her shake her head and turn away from him, but she still scooted back so her spine was pushed up against his side, his arm still a hostage as she placed a hand behind his elbow, her head resting on him carefully. What was wrong with her? His eyes moved up to the barrel as he heard it filling up, but then she made an angry sound that pulled his attention back down. She'd released his arm and spun around on her knees, glaring at him.

"Wait- what's wrong? You can't just-"

"I'm sorry_._" Then she stood up and stomped away.

What?

"For what? Nowell- _hey!_" He got up and followed her up the white steps of the lighthouse. She was headed inside, so that meant she needed to walk. He gave her space as they passed into the dim, ethereal chambers within the lighthouse walls, but only for so long before he needed a few more answers. "What's going on?" He called, and when she didn't acknowledge him- "Nowell!"

"_I was mad, okay! ?_" She rounded on him, angry again, and Amiti felt his arms rise and fall in confusion. "And I was wrong so now I'm sorry, alright? I was angry, I hated you, and I wanted you to suffer with not knowing."

"Not knowing _what?"_ Holding both hands out to stop her from moving or saying anything, he repeated himself. "Not knowing _what, _Nowell? Am I supposed to be mad?"

"You're saying you aren't?" He stared at her. "That you don't hate me?" She was perfectly serious about the question, standing a few yards off with her layered white dress catching some of the lighthouse's ambient wind. It made her hair move, but the rest of her was like ice. She was driving him nuts with these little mind-games.

"What-? No." He blinked a few times, trying to figure out where this logic was coming from. Maybe she..? He'd give himself a headache if she didn't sort this all out, but at least she was waiting for him to answer. His mouth felt dry and Amiti tried licking his lips a few times, the cool air didn't make him feel any more confident, but he stood his ground "No. I like you." He struggled to say it, hoping that, maybe, the admission might help: "I like you more than I should. I-"

She huffed and stomped off.

"_Nowell!_" Oh, he followed her, she was making him mad now. What was she trying to prove? Did she _want_ him to be angry when she revealed the great whatever-it-was?

"No." He followed her into a long corridor, their steps causing the grates underfoot to rattle and shake dangerously. There were cascading waterfalls all along one wall, segmented by an even number of pillars. One or two of these cascades had a room behind them, one held the passage that led up into the higher machinery driving the lighthouse. It was almost like Barai Temple: the light came through the water and everything was covered in the dew of the falls, but it was cold here. "Just go back to the fountain, I don't want to talk." She brought her hands up over her face in preparation to walk through the fall he knew hid that important corridor, and Amiti used his frustration to fuel his psynergy. She stepped forward and-

_Thunk._

Walked into ice.

"You're such a jerk!" She shouted, spluttering as the pillar he'd frozen had a bad effect on the rest of the water showering down from above: splitting the flow and causing it to splash and go everywhere. Nowell was dripping as she wheeled around and came back at him, one finger pointed at him sharply like she was going to try stabbing him with the tip. Actually, she did try, it just didn't hurt when she stormed up and poked him in the chest with that finger. She rambled something off at him about rudeness and insensitivity, then stopped talking all together once he folded his arms and stared her down. She looked angry, but now that she wasn't storming off it didn't look as genuine.

"What do I have to do to make you tell me?" He asked simply, watching her eyes skate around the room before she mimicked his folded arms, Amiti dropping his slowly. She said something he didn't quite hear, the waterfalls were too loud. "What?"

"I asked if like is the same as love." She snapped the words back at him and turned until her whole body was facing off to the side, arms still folded tightly just under her chest. Amiti fidgeted at the question: that was _very _personal, and she hadn't been acting in way to make him want to share. "Well?" Fine.

"No." She looked surprised, facing him again with an odd look before she reverted back to being cold and mean. "No, it's not the same." There was a difference between liking someone a lot and loving them a little. He did not love Rief's sister. He liked her. Nowell stared at him for a very long moment, her cobalt eyes flickering from side to side slightly, trained on his green ones, before she finally looked elsewhere and tried to march past him.

"I still can't tell you."

"What, do I have to love you first?" He said sharply, grabbing her arms as she tried getting by him, turning her to face him. He kept a steady grip on her, both hands holding her below the shoulders as she twisted and tried to jerk away from him. "You're making a fool out of me, and I don't like it, Nowell."

"Join the club-" She hissed, but then stopped struggling and swallowed quickly. "And no, if it was love then I _really_ couldn't tell you." And then more twisting, even a sharp kick that glanced off his leg and made him jump a little. She was still trying to get away. "_Let go_."

"Not until you tell me." He answered sternly, giving her a short, brisk shake when she tried stomping on his foot. She was making him _really_ angry with this. "If I have to hate you first, Nowell, then just keep this up, it's working." She stopped struggling at his harsh voice, but it took him a few more moments before he calmed down enough to loosen his grip on her arms. Amiti didn't want to hurt her, and he watched closely as she kept trying to make herself angry: it was becoming a struggle for her, she couldn't bring her eyes up to glare at him anymore. She was staring at the water, or his arms, or the wall across from them, but not at him. He watched her close her eyes and take a deep breath, restoring some of her composure before she looked up at him boldly.

"Kiss me." Um... No? "Then I can't tell you."

"And why would _that_ be the condition?" She was being ridiculous, acting like this was some sort of game- and her stony expression wasn't helping things either! He listened to her voice as it softened, watched her look off where she wanted to, but was aware of when her eyes came back up to him. She had her hands up against his chest where she'd been pushing on him to try and get away, they weren't pushing anymore, just there.

"Because-" She said, after another deep, steeling breath. "You'll hate me after I tell you, so I want a kiss first, from when you liked me." That was... _stupid_. As in that was actually stupid. And the worst part was that she was serious- he could see it and he knew that if he refused she would just keep defaulting back to it whenever he asked what was going on.

"Fine, you win."

"Not really-" Nowell snapped shut her eyes when he leaned in quickly, touching her cheek with his lips before he pulled back again.

A part of him shriveled a little when he saw the expression on her face.

"You're _kidding._" She muttered, her voice black and hands sitting on her hips now, unimpressed.

"No, but I wish _you_ were." The look she was giving him was disdainful, judging, like he'd just- "Close your eyes." He said quickly, and the look she gave him made the judgement worse. "Just close them, alright?" She did what he said, and Amiti couldn't think of a time when someone had ransomed information for a kiss.

But this time he did it right. He watched her face for a moment, brushing a few strands of wet hair off her cheek, he felt her tense up at the touch. She wanted a kiss? Alright, he could do that. Amiti's hand moved down her face until his thumb brushed over her pink lips. He pushed his fingers back until they found her hair, cradling the back of her head and neck before he tugged her closer. Amiti didn't expect her to feel warm, or to kiss back when their lips touched, but even with damp clothes she managed to do both. Her hands slid up and he felt her touch the sides of his neck, reaching up to hold his face between her palms. They stayed like that for a moment, pulling back so their lips were just touching before Nowell started to speak, her voice hushed and fingertips hooked just behind his neck, still holding on.

"...Passaj and Ayuthay are at war." ..._What?_ "No, don't- don't talk... just listen." Don't think, either. Don't think. He let her talk, his face still hovering just above hers, and pretended she was saying something else.

"Your friend Baghi arrived after the riots calmed down, but when he heard what happened... he was so _mad_..." She was whispering the words to him, making them almost impossible to hear next to the waterfalls. He wouldn't have heard any of it if they hadn't been so close. "He got into a screaming match with Paithos, then left with Rief swearing he'd never come back." Baghi didn't have a temper. Had the Well been repaired first? "We went to Kaocho after that-" No, wait- no. Wrong. He pulled his forehead away from hers, shaking off her touch. She spoke a little louder now, trying to stop him, but they were still standing close together. "Amiti, a Hero of the Eclipse had been killed, we had to-"

"You told Kaocho?" No, don't talk- don't think right now, just listen to what she had to s- "You told that war-mongering little city that my uncle had-"

"And Champa. And Morgal." She covered her own lips with one hand after she said it. Eoleo's pirates and Sveta's beastmen. No. No he must have been hearing her wrong. "Amiti _please-_" Champan ships would sail to Yamata, Emperor Susa might get involved- what about Emperor Unan? No- they couldn't have gone to Sana. Sveta wouldn't have _let_ them go to Sana. Unless he just found out anyways.

"_Don't- _Don't touch me." He'd let go of her like she'd burn him otherwise, snapping his hands away and taking several quick steps back now. She tried reaching out and he warned her away with one hand. His mind was running now, the gears he'd blocked and kept from turning for a year were groaning, trying to start waking up and come back to life.

Passaj was the mid-point for trade between Harapa and Ayuthay, and if that wasn't enough then Baghi could just put the breaks on any building projects in the city of ruins and _make_ Harapa support them.

Morgal was separated from Ei-jei by mountains, but there were ways to get across them, and so many medicines in Ei-Jei came from places like Kolima. If the Queen's friend had been executed without reason then-

And Sana had lost territory, but Unan was still one of the most powerful men in the world: Amiti had helped save both Ryu Kou and Hou Ju. Ayuthay had withstood the Kaocho invasion alone, but Wo and Unan together would be a hammer pounding on the city's shell. And of course Kaocho would attack- they were _Kaocho._

Champa and Yamata, Amiti couldn't think of what they would contribute off the top of his head, but they would do something, even if it was just in spirit. How long would it take Susa to build ships...?

"This was six months ago." He was walking, pacing wildly, but when the slow realization hit him, he stopped. Amiti's eyes carefully dredged themselves back into focus, shaking off the visions in his mind and all the mounting forces. He saw Nowell trying not to lose her composure, but being angry wasn't working anymore: she just looked scared. Scared and sorry.

That wasn't good enough.

"You came home _six months ago!_" His voice hit the lighthouse walls and came ricocheting back at him. Yamata could build ships in six months. Sveta could move soldiers in six months. Unan could- Ayuthay might-

No. No, this wasn't real. She was lying. This couldn't be happening. He could not have been exploited like this.

"Amiti-"

"When were you going to tell me! ?" He shouted, fighting with himself as his hands clawed at the air. He wanted to just grab and shake her, make her realize what she'd done, but he couldn't trust himself right now. He was scared- no, he was _angry:_ angry at her, angry at himself, at Paithos, and Sveta, and Eoleo, and Himi, and Baghi. And her. He was so, so _mad_ that she- "_WAR!_ _MY friends and MY people_- _at war! Because of ME! When were you going to tell me this! ?"_ She wasn't, that was the answer, if he hadn't persisted, hadn't bothered her, hadn't chased her in here. No wonder she felt guilty, no wonder she threw walls at him- she'd hidden a war from him- a war he could have kept from happening! Maybe! _IF HE'D KNOWN!_

"I hid here." He turned away from her, pacing again, hands up over his face as he struggled to try and get a grip now. He tried to do anything that would keep him from spinning around and slapping her, he was so mad. "I _hid_." That's what he'd done when Piers had sailed into Imil. He'd hidden. He'd gotten drunk with Eoleo and not even bothered to ask why the man said he was a ghost, a spectre, a shade of someone he'd known. What Amiti still remembered told him he'd thought the pirate was just drunk. Harmless. _This was not harmless._ This was why Piers had searched for a week to try and find him. This was why Nowell had been so hateful towards him: it wasn't one riot she was worried about, it was the war-machine being built on all sides around an innocent city. This was his fault.

His fault.

"Go back outside, we're leaving." The ice he'd thrown up cracked and broke apart behind her, Amiti pushing his way past Nowell and heading through the curtain. They were leaving, but he had to do something first.

He had to think first.

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**I really, really like this chapter by the way :D **

**And now I hope you stay tuned for Wednesday's update! ****Read and Review!**


	8. I'm Adapting

**Cursed Kolima. Harapa Ruins. Coming Home. What's my name? How the hell did Rihanna get on this playlist?**

**I feel really bad that this is my mid-week update, since Chapter 8 really isn't as exciting as 7 XD It works as a part of the whole story, but I realize now that with the update schedule you had to wait three days for something that doesn't keep the same pace, and have to wait another three days for chapter 9. I _also_ recognize the fact that a lot of you seem to be reading primarily during school hours on Wednesday, so I'm very sorry that I posted this so late- special thanks please to the ffdotnetrants blog on LiveJournal for telling me how to get around this horrible error.**

**So Sunny's sorry! Now go read!**

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_**Imil**_

I'm Adapting

Something in the back of his head told him Nowell wouldn't leave without the Hermes water they'd come for, so that was part of why he didn't storm back out of the lighthouse and get the cart ready. He also didn't want to sit out there with her, not right now, not when he knew he'd just start shouting again and _really _start to hate her. He navigated the cold, prismatic blue insides of the tower instead, going all the way up to the aerie and hoping the beacon would calm him down.

It didn't, and looking down on Imil just stirred up a hate in him that he didn't know how to deal with. So he aimed it at the town. So small, so inconsequential. If it froze over tomorrow and never thawed again no one would ever know or care. Maybe this was why Alex had left. Maybe Amiti finally understood something his father had done. Hadn't that been his reason for choosing Imil in the first place? Because of Alex?

He kept himself from going too close to the edge, not for fear of jumping, but of simply falling from too strong a gust of wind. He couldn't afford a mishap like that right now, he couldn't die _now- _but he had to do something to work through some of the hate, some of the fury. There was nothing on hand for him to throw or break, so he settled for screaming at the beacon instead. The swirling, god-like vortex of Mercury psynergy was supposed to be humbling, but all Amiti cared about was the wind that snatched the words out of his mouth and sent them away on the wind, too high for anyone to ever hear.

When he'd screamed the last of it out, when he'd grown numb in the wind and felt his senses being smothered by the beacon's resonance, _that_ was when Amiti let himself go back down to Nowell. She'd used her psynergy to lift the heavy barrels onto the cart without him, so he found her sitting on the front corner of the study wooden vehicle and waiting with red, puffy eyes and a rough voice. Well, his throat was raw too, so when she said his name he didn't even look at her, just grabbed the mule's bit and started walking. The animal was cold and unhappy, but that was too bad. Amiti'd been cold since he'd first sailed to Imil, and now he was miserable again too: the beast could just _deal with it._

The long walk threatened to turn his anger into grief, and for a while he let it: at least he did when they were walking against the wind and he had an excuse for red, stinging eyes. But Amiti held on to the anger, not the part of it that made him scream, but the one that kept his spine straight and shoulders back, the one that focused his mind and had him plotting and thinking. The gears weren't grinding anymore, they were spinning like a well-oiled machine. No headaches.

They reached the town and Amiti parted ways from her, speaking shortly that she should drive the cart back to her mother's house and that he'd be back after completing some business. Nowell argued, but in a voice that meant he could walk away and she wouldn't do anything to stop him. So that's what they did: he walked away, and she let him. He went down to the harbour. He needed to know what was going on in the outside world.

"_Ei-Jei? The war-drums were beating last I heard. Those guys're always fighting."_

"_Yeah, Sana's prince was killed in a- wait, no, it wasn't Sana..."_

"_Morgal just finished settling things with Bilibin, now they're fighting in Ei-Jei too? Damn Beastmen!"_

The reports were all over the place. No two ships had the same story, but that was because they never sailed together unless the pirate attacks were particularly viscous- which they weren't, according to most of the deckhands he found. The worst part was that their information was months old already: psynergy-powered and psynergy-_enhanced_ ships moved exponentially faster, but the outrageous costs surrounding them meant that most of the vessels in Imil's harbour were powered by the wind alone. Weather-permitting, that meant three months from Belinsk, five from Tonfon, and as much as eight from Yamata.

Eoleo was busy doing something else, something no one in Imil could tell him about because they all sailed north. No one ever went any further south than Tonfon along the coast, or Yamata in the ocean. If the pirates weren't congregated along the main shipping lanes, why would the merchants care?

"_You want something delivered to Belinsk? Sure, we set sail tomorrow morning, be back here before we leave." _He'd fix this, he'd do his best.

When Amiti returned to the house the rest of the day had been spent, the sky going dark overhead and shadows lengthening all around. He stopped for a few minutes outside the door, willing away the beginnings of a headache as he set out a plan for himself. He would contact the people in charge- he couldn't just up and leave Imil today or tomorrow, but he could send letters ahead of his own departure. He would sort things out with Mia and Nowell before he found passage south, but word had to get out as soon as it could.

"You're back." When he got inside, he found Mia pacing, but she stopped and looked at him as she spoke. She had one arm wrapped around and tucked under her side, the fingers of the other hovering near her chin and lips. "I don't know how she could keep something like that from-"

"Did you know?" Amiti did not _want_ to interrupt her, but he did it because he was still mad and he couldn't help himself. His hands were tight fists at his side, but he kept trying to stretch them out inside his gloves, letting them curl back again several times.

"About a _war?_ Of course not." And she went back to pacing, her form casting shadows across the walls and floor as she passed back and forth in front of the fire. "Piers didn't say _anything, _I thought I could trust him but-" So she wasn't responsible, alright, then he couldn't let his temper loose on her. It wasn't her fault. It was almost a shame, really, because he might have been able to forgive Nowell more easily if her mother had been in on it as well. It was a terrible way of thinking. "Are you hungry?"

"No. But I need paper, and ink if we have any." She nodded to say she understood immediately, something he hadn't expected, but took and was grateful for. Except she didn't move.

"So you're writing letters?"

"Unless you want me on a ship tomorrow, yes." _No stalling!_

"No sense being hasty..." So instead of watching her go up the stairs to her room, or find the materials somewhere on this floor, Amiti stood there as Mia went to the fire with one of her kitchen rags. She swung out the iron arm and took up the ladle that was hanging next to the masonry, Amiti trying very hard not to be annoyed with her right now. There were a few dishes laying just next to the hearth and she quickly dished up the creamy contents of the pot. It smelled like shellfish. "Eat while I'll go bring them down." He accepted the wooden bowl and spoon, willing to appease her so long as it didn't take him too long.

"No, leave them in Rief's room." He spooned up some of the chowder, but the rising steam warned him away from sticking it straight into his mouth- he'd just _watched_ her pull it from the fire. And now he watched her stare at him, like she was wary of something.

"You don't want help?"

"Not with this, no." Still staring, he didn't know if she'd noticed how she was looking at him right now. Critical. Defensive. Then she slowly seemed to come out of it... They didn't say anything else before she vanished to find the materials, Amiti's mind already moving ahead to seals and signets. He didn't have a symbol anymore, so aside from his own writing what would there be to convince anyone that he'd actually penned the letters? Sveta could be convinced, maybe Eoleo, but he had no idea where the pirate might be and if he thought a letter would be enough to reach him, Amiti might as well stick it in a bottle and chuck it into the harbour.

He ate. That had been Mia's condition. He tried not to taste the salty mass, still not used to the way Imilians salted their food and boiled it down so far. It had been tolerable in winter when he was tired and desperate for warmth, but it wasn't so cold now. He wasn't so tired. He finished and rinsed the bowl before finally heading upstairs.

Mia hadn't reappeared, and she wasn't in his room when he opened the door, so she was either in her own room down the hall or with Nowell- who he assumed was hidden behind the middle door. He hadn't seen her, just the thin summer cloak she'd worn to the lighthouse earlier, but he knew she was still around. Amiti would try not to be mad at her when they spoke next. He would try.

The paper and ink were on Rief's desk along with a bottle of sand and several quills, and Amiti sat down heavily in front of them. He was fidgety, anxious to start but worried at the same time. He counted out the sheets of paper and knew he had enough for drafts, but that didn't mean he could just start scratching away. How many letters? Baghi, Sveta, and Unan. One for Paithos? No, it would never get through. He didn't pen one to Eoleo because, again, how would it reach him?

Letters were like speeches, there were different ways to say the same thing. There was the way you said it to your friends, like him and Baghi, there was the way you spoke to a peer, someone like Sveta, and then there were your superiors, such as Unan. He could work with three different registers, but before he even attacked the problem of deaths and wars, Amiti felt cold.

_'I'm not a prince.' _Baghi was a lord. Sveta was a queen. Unan was an emperor. He'd met each of them in person, of course, but royals weren't obligated to answer letters from persons without status. Baghi would read it automatically if he heard the name, and anyone in Passaj would rush it to him- but Sveta and Unan would have to rely on their servants and attendants to deem the letter worthy of their attention first. They were _all_ his superiors now.

He started anyways, he would write them first and figure out the rest later.

"_To my esteemed friend..." _Baghi.

"_To her Highness and fellow Hero of Apollo..."_ Sveta.

"_To he who reigns a million souls with a single word, wise Emperor of the East..." _Unan.

He wrote all three together at the same time, ensuring he didn't go off on a tangent with any one and take up valuable time or space. Baghi's lines always came first, they were the most blunt, most direct. _"I've heard of terrible things happening in Ei-Jei, please tell me no one is behaving rashly."._ With Sveta he could maintain a similar tone, but it had to be formal, by necessity there had to be a strong degree of separation. For every one line he wrote for Baghi, Unan received three. If he wrote five for Sveta, Unan got eight. For all he knew the Emperor probably had letters read aloud for his entire court to hear: it had to be copious, otherwise Amiti ran the risk of insult. He couldn't _afford_ an insult_._ _"It is my deepest wish to hear that nothing I have learned far in these frozen, northern reaches is true of your Eminence in the fragrant south. The guilt of your displeasure would be too great a burden..."_

Did he cover it all? For all three? He was at it for hours, careful with his penmanship and repeating every line several times, both in his head and aloud, before committing it to the page. He'd had to search for a ship willing to carry the letters to Belinsk, so he didn't have the luxury of spending days going over the phrases: he had to do it now and trust his own rusty skills with rhetoric. Belinsk was a popular destination, but very few sailors would be bothered with a personal delivery on the side of all the money to be made.

Because of the pressure, Amiti was thankful to Mia for giving him thick paper to absorb the dye, and a luscious sort of ink that gave him time to quickly scratch away any mistakes before the pigment took. He finished the closing lines with a sore back and strained eyes, one of the candles he'd lit flickering wildly as it ran out of wax and wick.

"_I write to you now six months from the new year, I'll be in Belinsk as soon as I can find a ship from Imil."_ Baghi.

"_It is summer in the north, it is my hope to enter into your capitol before the freeze this autumn."_ Sveta.

"_If it becomes necessary, know that I would ride the ice itself to reach the City of Light by mid-autumn. To please your Imperial Highness, upon my arrival in Morgal I will charter passage directly to the great capitol of Tonfon."_ Unan. That was the last of it, and it was exhausting.

Resting his elbows on the desk and looking down at all three unsigned letters, Amiti was scratching his fingers back through his hair before he finally untied the blue and grey headband from around his forehead. It wasn't giving him a headache, he was just tired and wanted the tension gone. Signature. Signature. He could sign his name for Baghi and that would be alright, but it would be pushing it with Sveta. Unacceptable for the Emperor of Sana. Was there a default?

_'Amiti of Ayuthay.'_ Well, no, he had been banished. _'The Exile' _was shameful, did he have to use it? _'Of Imil'_ ...Did he live here? As in, did he actually _live_ here, had Imil become his home? He remembered the resentment atop the lighthouse, the _hate_ he'd felt looking down on the town and covered his eyes with his hands. He'd been here for a year, or almost one, was he going to stay for another? Would he come back once everything was settled in Ei-Jei?

The candle at his right finally gave out, sending up a thin ribbon of smoke as it devoured the last of its resources and died. Letting out a sigh and wrinkling his nose as the acidic smell hit him, Amiti waved the smoke away and picked up the other stub sitting at his left, shifting it so he'd have a better spread of light. The movement caused something to glint behind the unused bottle of sand Mia had left there, behind the extra feather nubs. Placing the candle down where he wanted it, Amiti reached out and brushed through the supplies.

A ring?

It was old, silver, tarnished. A man's ring. Fishing through one of Rief's desk drawers Amiti found two more small candles and lit them quickly off the first flame, positioning them carefully so they wouldn't fall or dribble wax across his precious letters. Examining details was better left for daylight, but as he strained his eyes and twisted the flat face of the ring against the glow... was that a tower? It resembled Mercury Lighthouse, with a large snow-flake behind it- or was that a solid crystal instead? Whatever it was supposed to be, it bore a strong resemblance to the Mercury Clan crest.

Mia must have left it, he knew this room well enough that if either of them had rearranged Rief's _books_ Amiti would have been able to spot the difference. So this was intentional: it was said without saying.

"_Your eternal friend."_

"_Your honourable companion."_

_"Your humble, obedient servant."_

Amiti of Imil. Signed, sealed, done. That was enough for tonight, he'd had a long day.

Tomorrow he would have an early morning.

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**Not where this chapter was supposed to end originally, but it's important despite that bit of rhetorical theory in the middle. Hey, I was trying to study!**

**Keep reading, guys, I'll see you on Saturday =D**


	9. I'm Compromising

******This was originally the second half of chapter 8, but the length of the chapter (9 pages) made me uneasy. My average has always been 10 pages, but I find it unfair when a story has a pretty solid average and then something get's tossed in to muck it up. So here you go!**

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_**Imil**_

_I'm Compromising_

He _over-slept._

Wake up, panic, fall out of bed. Stand and change clothes, blame shirt for being inside out, throw on sweater and vest to make up for it. Boots next, run downstairs.

"Wait!" Mia's voice. The letters.

Run back upstairs, grab letters, almost collide with Nowell on the way down again. Apologize, run, keep running.

If there had been snow on the ground Amiti would have spilled into the street several times as he careened his way down roads and lanes. The sun was all the way up over the horizon now, turning the ocean into a dazzling sea of light- but also making it impossible to see which ships had left and how far they'd gone. The ship-master had told him to arrive early, had told him they were leaving in the morning, and Amiti knew that time was money so the man would not wait long, if at all.

His lungs were tight and his hands and face were freezing by the time he was in the harbour, slowing down to a jog as he could already see a gap in the short masts where the ship he needed was no longer moored.

"Damn, damn..." The dock clunked under his boots, creaking tiredly while Amiti turned his eyes skyward and just walked now. He followed the pier out until he ran out of planking, crouching down with the letters tucked into his belt, watching the stern of the Belinsk-bound ship vanish against the dawn glare. Damn it, of all the days to sleep in. Now he needed another ship, with another captain or sailor who would agree to go up to Belinsk's palace when they arrived and deliver the messages, provided their ship didn't sink, or the man forget his task completely. Great.

Crouching there, Amiti slowly leaned back, braced on one hand, and slung his legs out so they were dangling over the edge, several feet above the green, briney water. He needed to wait for the blood to stop screaming through his ears, let the sweat cool off from his panicked run before he started going around bothering crews.

He was cold in the wind coming off the water, but it wasn't snowing. The sky was clear, there were gulls flying around and calling to one another. This pier had only held the one ship too, so it was quiet and there was no one to yell at him for catching his breath here. Shutting his eyes, Amiti dropped his head forward to help calm himself down, letting the sun warm his hair and legs, ignoring the wind that was trying to cool him at the same time. He could smell the sea-salt. He heard footsteps. He felt a change in the waves.

It wasn't the sort of change you missed, it wasn't the gait you'd forget. The timing was too good.

"You could have told me." He said, listening to the footsteps stop, waiting for Alex to say something. "About the war...?"

"...Until yesterday, I thought you knew."

"You thought I planned it?" No answer, Amiti opened his eyes slowly, looking out at the ocean again. It was incredibly bright. "That I was hiding in the lighthouse so Piers wouldn't take me back and fix it?"

"_Perhaps_." There was a dry chuckle behind him, Alex was only a few feet away, but kept his distance. "But I still didn't go to see you there."

"Coincidence."

"Possibly." A gull swooped down from overhead and slid into the rippling green water, something to watch for the moment it took the bird to return with a wiggling silver fish. Amiti waited for some other statement, or a question, but Alex was slow to provide. "You should know that this war... it was something Paithos could have prevented."

"If he had that power, he would have used it."

"But he didn't: he has done nothing but inflame the situation for months."

"While you've been watching." Amiti expected a quick response to go along with the others, but instead Alex took another long moment to stop and think, or to stop and just not answer. There was no chuckle this time, but Amiti turned his head as far as he dared, catching just the fuzzy blue edge of the man's robe in the corner of his eye.

"I never said I was neutral."

"You don't pick sides." Pulling his legs up together, Amiti pushed himself up onto his feet, one hand on his waist and the other shielding his eyes as he tried seeing where the ship had gone off to, but it had already vanished over the horizon. He turned slowly, like he was reluctant to actually face Alex- and maybe he was. "Blados and Chalis learned that the hard way: you're only on your own side."

He didn't look quite the same. Amiti hadn't been able to see him clearly atop the lighthouse, just his silhouette, but now the unmasked part of Alex's face looked... thin. Like he might have been tired. It was difficult to gauge the effect of it though, his one visible eye was sharp and probing, his thin lips turned up in an absent smirk.

"Now you think _I_ planned it." He said slowly, drawling the words a little to make them sting, his smile growing by a hair. "That I appeared to bask in my own genius, giving you the means to remain hidden and keep you from foiling my plans down below...?" Alex didn't have to ask him outright if that was what he thought, and Amiti felt himself both stiffen and shrink a little at the same time.

"It's a sound theory."

"But it's forgetting something." The man took a step closer, but the effect was that they were standing next to one another now, with Alex looking out over the edge of the pier, into the rising sun. His mask was reflecting back so much of the light it could have been shining on its own, but Amiti could still see the man's one eye as Alex turned his head to look at him. Still smiling, he sounded amused when he spoke. "I did _not_ go to see you." Amiti sucked in a breath, then his eyes darted off somewhere else, focusing on a shingled roof, then a sailor in the distance carrying cargo. He let the breath out roughly. Not angry. Don't get angry.

"Fine." He said quickly, letting himself shrug and let go of some anxiety. He didn't like being so close to this man, it was difficult. "Who did you go to see then? Or do you just like the beacon?" Somehow his conversation with Nowell came back to him and he threw the comment out just so he'd have something to say. Who knew, maybe Alex _did_ just like standing on top of icy towers in the middle of the night. There was another silence.

"...I went to see Veriti." What? Amiti looked at him, but now Alex had his gaze trained on the horizon instead. "To ask how our son was faring." Alex took a short step and lifted himself into the air, the effect was subtle, and from the shore anyone looking would have thought he was still standing on the pier itself. Amiti just watched him hover there for a moment, wondering why he felt disappointed.

"Even _you?" _Even the Demi-god had thought him dead.

"When our senses fail us, we turn to what others claim instead." Meaning he'd believed the rumours. "When Paithos responded to the claims of your death by having his _new_ prince declare the false details of the execution, I was... rather displeased." And Amiti was skeptical.

"You had tried to kill me just before that, why would my execution bother you?" He waited while the man took his customary moment to speak, Amiti doing his best to internalize his reaction to this news. His uncle had _declared _it? Alex still wasn't answering him though, so he took a breath and asked something else. "When did you finally believe me?" Alex hadn't, he knew, believed what he'd said about Veriti at first. Piers and Rief had told him about some kind of theory they'd had about shared psynergy, but Amiti knew that it wasn't true. Alex had been convinced of one thing, then rapidly changed both his mind and actions. When?

"When you let go. On the bridge." There, that prompted him. "Veriti would have done the same thing, with the same look. Paithos' ilk would have given up and begged for mercy." Was that just opinion? As in, a glint of personality masquerading as fact in Alex's mind? Amiti almost thought he heard resentment buried under the words.

"And you?" He asked, "Or would you just not fall into that situation?" Alex gave another short, dry laugh, a chuckle that barely reached his ears.

"Of course not. But, hypothetically..." The adept tilted his head just enough to show he was thinking about it, or he was making a _point_ of _looking_ like he was thinking about it. "I would have known better than to trust the man on the bridge." So... the same choice. He would have let go before he was kicked in. "Who are the letters for?"

What? Oh. Blinking slowly before he removed the letters from his belt, Amiti didn't know why he'd smiled, he shouldn't have done something like that with Alex around. Looking over the three folds of parchment, he'd printed a small version of each nation's crest onto the corner to distinguish the different letters.

"The leaders of Belinsk, Passaj, and Sana."

"It will take months for them to arrive anywhere by ship and caravan."

"I know, but-"

"Give them to me." Amiti looked up, Alex was in front of him, but still hovering a few feet from the edge of the pier, but now directly in front of him, facing him. Just not too close: he had one hand extended out across part of the gap, but it would require Amiti to step out right to the edge to reach him.

"What-?"

"Do you want them delivered or not?" He- well. Yes, but- "I am faster than any ship in these waters, Amiti. Give them to me." Alex wasn't smiling anymore, and Amiti felt fixed to the spot. It was so _strange_ hearing his name in that voice, like Alex had no practice with the word.

But, what was the worst that could happen if he gave in? They would never be delivered. That was the greatest consequence and so it wasn't much of a threat at all. Alex's eye was trained on the hand holding the letters, the hand he remembered was still wearing the ring from last night- he'd forgotten to take it off.

"Don't mix them up." Amiti didn't know why those words came out, but he reached over the edge of the pier and let Alex take the letters from him, one turquoise brow lifting slightly at the warning. Amiti didn't take it back. He watched the hovering adept swiftly flipped around the three bundles deftly with his long fingers, as if he could read the pages when they were folded up into thirds and sealed. Well, who knew? Maybe Alex could. One cold eye struck him like a dart as the papers were tucked away inside the man's white tunic.

"Don't delay with your return." What a strange thing for him to say...

"I won't."

Alex turned away from him, blocking the sun's image and creating a glare effect similar to what Amiti had dealt with atop the lighthouse. But it was different this time when he watched Alex's form begin to change, close enough to him to feel the psynergy at work resonating through air and water. Wait- was that all he was doing? Amiti blinked and saw chains forming from the man's image, like the different beads of colour were being plucked apart and strung along in a pattern. Sunlight infiltrated the gaps and-

"_Wait!_" And Alex stopped, Amiti watching the chains quickly reverse- like thread being let and wound on a spool, because that was what it resembled. But now Alex was waiting, he had to say something- uh- "Who's ring is it?" It. Was. Something. Amiti had snatched his hands up, showing the ring and touching it with his other fingers. Alex was quiet again, his head turned just enough so Amiti could see the side of the metal mask against the sun, not his eye.

"...Your grandfather's." And then Alex was gone, Amiti's eyes trained on his back and watching the strands of psynergy pulling themselves apart- Mercury, Mars, Jupiter, Venus, Mercury again. That was the order, with the dominant element punctuating the chain. Was that how he did it? He just pulled himself apart in a patterned chain, strung it to where he wanted to go, and used the same pattern to rearrange? Was that it?

Amiti's close study rewarded him with an eye full of white sunshine, something which took him several minutes to adjust to after Alex was gone. By the time the massive blue burn had faded from his gaze, he looked out over the water and saw a ship that had already completed its journey up over the horizon towards the shore. And even as he watched it came dramatically closer: not a normal boat- tall sails, blue? And oars that- wait. That figure-head, was that the-? Yes, yes it was. He knew that ship.

_'Don't delay.'_ No, none of that. He'd be gone by the end of the week.

* * *

**Alright, I planned this story to be 10 chapters, but then I wound up with too much content and it came out at 11. S'not so bad, right?**

**Next chapter tomorrow!**


	10. I'm Forgiving

**Perfect, and other songs I didn't think to write down when actually putting the chapter together.**

**Woo, second-to-last chapter of Ei-Jei! And I gave this one a nice sprucing up to thanks to some earlier feed-back on Nowell and Amiti's characterization. :D**

**HAHA ROMANCE YES. I was gonna post this ridiculously early this morning (like, 2am PST), but then realized that the edits I'd made earlier on Saturday hadn't been proof-read by a not-exhausted Sunny. Also probably gonna be replacing the content of Chapter 9 in a day or two, just waiting on some feedback about ambiguity so I can make a few changes.**

* * *

_**Imil**_

I'm Forgiving

The first thing Amiti remembered was a giant pirate fist careening towards his face. After that, he was floundering in the icy water under the pier demanding very loudly to know why he'd ever let Matthew save Eoleo's life. Or why he'd stood there waiting for the pirate ship to cast its lines and moor up in the harbour. He could swim just fine, but his arms were numb long before the laughing crew tossed him a line to climb back up.

"You aren't dead!"

"I'm getting sick of hearing that." He really was.

"No, I mean you're _not dead!"_

Once he was up again, Eoleo dismissed his crew to finish with the ship and then enjoy their time on land, the two Adepts navigating the town back to Mia's home on the hill. It occurred to him along the way that a pirate would not be Mia's ideal house-guest, but she didn't seem to mind it when they arrived.

"Amiti, you're wet...?"

"Please don't ask..."

"So you're Rief's mom, huh?"

From there, everything was sorted out quickly. Eoleo wouldn't say what had brought him back to Imil, just said that it didn't matter, so they discussed Ei-Jei instead. They didn't get very far though once Amiti's face turned, the pirate pausing his description of Morgal's new-found adept powers, and Rief's idea of mounting naval cannons on land. There had been active fighting for several weeks before Eoleo had left, but he made a guess that by now Ayuthay had been backed within their city walls again like before the Eclipse.

"Emperor Susa's been pouring money out hand over fist into this thing too, to help cover costs and all. I think he just wants to keep anyone from taking Himi away again." Probably a valid fear for the emperor... "And Unan? You should _see_ him and Wo at the war-table together, like a couple scrappy kids." Amiti choked on his food.

"Wo? King Wo?"

"Yeah, didn't you hear?" No, no he hadn't. The Kaocho warlord was supposed to be dead. "Nah, he got back inside his palace during the Eclipse, held out in there for a while after it was over too, what with his army falling apart. I'm surprised you didn't know."

"I guess I forgot." He tried not to look at Nowell, he tried _very hard_ not to look at her. Eoleo said nothing.

By the end of the day they had it all done. Eoleo needed to give his crew time to rest and _'have fun'_ in Imil, and in the meantime he was going to resupply and make minor repairs to his ship. When they sailed at the end of the week, Amiti would go with them down to Belinsk. Several things remained unsaid, but there would be time during the voyage for things like why Amiti had waited so long to make his return to Ei-Jei.

* * *

Mia accepted over those next few days that she was losing her apprentice. She was clearly disappointed in this, but at the same time there was something in her manner that told him it was okay. Piers had told her he was a prince, maybe she'd been waiting for him to start acting like one. He did fewer chores, and the ones he was given or volunteered for were predominantly solo tasks, like chopping wood or making a few small repairs around the house- a squealing hinge he hadn't had the time for, a broken chair leg Mia had put off fixing. Little things. Nowell was also kept busy, but not as much as he was used to seeing. She didn't go on rounds with her mother, and spent a lot of time up in her room.

His last day arrived very quickly, and Amiti was surprised when the door couldn't stay closed for more than a few minutes between visitors. Mia and Nowell were dear to Imil, so by extension Amiti had earned some of that love as well. He was asked to hold a baby he'd seen born several months earlier, a young man his age showed off the scar in his arm where Amiti had removed a large fish hook. There were thanks and blessings given, and he felt something unused in him wake up again: those gracious airs seemed to come back to him, the ones he'd always had on hand to when expected to deal with flattery and tribute. It was still nothing like Ayuthay of course: he was given cured meats, not gold, and a knit scarf, not silk. But it was familiar. It was practice.

"I've never seen you so charismatic." Mia commented, coming back inside after walking an elderly pair down to the lane. She was smiling, but it was a scrutinizing look at the same time. "I suppose it's natural with your up-bringing but, _well_."

"You haven't been like that since Ayuthay." It was one of the few things Nowell had said to him all week, and he turned from sorting through the modest array of treasures to look at her, standing half-way up the stairs and leaning on the banister, chin cushioned by her woven fingers. "You even kissed old Madame Thatcher on the cheek, and she hates you." Aha, yes, yes he had... Amiti let out a short laugh, but didn't have anything to say as he scratched just under the edge of his headband, behind the ear.

"Alright then, now, what about these?" Mia joined him at the table, her fingers drifting over the few jars of preserves that had been brought, a bottle of vodka and two long filets of smoked humpback salmon were there amongst smaller pieces of handicraft. "You'll want to give the fish to Eoleo to store, they should make his crew like you." She gave him one of her mothering smiles, and Amiti answered it with a smaller look of his own, then shook his head.

"No, no, I was going to leave these here. I mean, the scarf I can take, and these smaller things, but the food can stay here. And the quilt is just..." He touched the blue and green fabric as he spoke. It was thin and marked with a child's stitches, but with the size it could be used to layer both the mattress and then roll up around a body: perfect for Imil's weather. Looking at her, Mia was the one with the jade-coloured eyes, ones that sometimes put him off balance: he looked at them and understood where his colour had come from. "These gifts are more for you than for me." He said, trying not to let the words clog up now after hours of seeing guests. Nowell had vanished from the stairs.

"Nonsense." Mia rebuked, shaking her head with a dismissive expression. "You've worked hard and the people see that, they'll miss you."

"I didn't say I wouldn't be missed, but I've only done what you've taught me." He was being sincere, this was important. "And I've learned much more than I ever expected. About herbs, psynergy, healing, carpentry-" And that one still threw him. "-and about myself as well. This is the very least I can do." As he gestured over the table something caught his eye, something he kept remembering and forgetting to deal with, so now was the right time. "And this, I..."

He'd worn the ring on his right hand all week, mostly because he kept forgetting to take it off. He remembed only when he wanted to try and give it back to Mia, but then she'd be busy and he, again, would forget. Working the silver off his finger now, he held the warm metal ring out on his palm for her to take. Mia looked at it, but her face was saying something. Apprehension? Discomfort? She didn't seem happy to see it there, but she must have noticed him wearing it before now.

"You should keep that." She said quietly, like she was unsure, then went back to re-folding the quilt where it had lain tented on the table. "It belongs to you."

"But, Mia, I-"

"Keep it."

It struck him after she left the room to store the jars and gifts, leaving him there to slip the ring back on slowly. She knew. He didn't know how or when she'd found out, but now she knew. Amiti couldn't imagine someone had told her, it just seemed too gradual for that. Mia had been giving him strange, half-certain looks for a while now, between her smiles and directions. Sometimes it was when he smiled, or the rare times he let himself curse when suffering a minor pain, but it had been happening more and more often over the last little while. So no, no one had told her, she just saw Alex in him. Maybe that meant it was good for her that he was leaving.

It seemed like something he should speak to Nowell about, but when he went upstairs Amiti found himself stuck standing outside her bedroom door. He raised a hand to knock, then hesitated, lowering it. Then he tried again, and then he tried speaking through the door. Then he went back to his room- Rief's room, and sat down.

Was he still upset with her? Of course, that would take a long time to go away. But was he mad? As in- did he feel himself build into a rage whenever she was around him? Did he have to leave and put space between them? No. Not anymore. That first day, yes, and more-so after speaking with Alex and then Eoleo's arrival. But not now. He was ready to talk to her again, he just didn't know how. How do you talk to someone who has deceived you? How do you start that conversation? How do you say good-bye and how to you admit, even to yourself, that you'll still miss them?

Amiti didn't have any answers to his questions, so he just ignored them. He just packed.

What little he had accumulated since arriving was placed inside in a thick canvas sack, the sort that would survive the voyage. Some of the tools he'd been given would have to stay here: the small mortar and pedestal, like the one Rief used, was sitting clean on the desk, but he'd packed the small leather-bound kit of razors and needles that he'd learned how to use. All of his clothing was too heavy for Ei-Jei's heat, but they were what he had and would serve him on the ship. It was also nearly autumn here, so it would probably be cold in Morgal by the time they arrived. He could worry about dressing lighter once they reached Sana or Ei-Jei- Amiti wasn't quite sure what the land-route would be.

He had also packed the small book he'd made and filled out concerning the different herbs Mia used- would he come across any of them in Ei-Jei or Morgal? Maybe, maybe not, but it wasn't something he could just let go of. There was inherent value in the scarf he folded now and slipped into the sack, and he knew he was going to wear the same heavy jacket, boots, and robe that had been made for him when he left. Unless he returned to Imil he would never be in a situation to need them again, not items of their quality at least, but he couldn't justify leaving them behind.

Three things he had not packed but would carry with him onto the ship were sitting on the bed. His dagger with its blue-enamelled hilt and sheath, carried from Ayuthay. Alex's silver flask. And his grandfather's ring. He sharpened the dagger twice, oiling it carefully, had already filled the flask with Hermes water earlier that day, and had polished the ring yesterday, removing the grey tarnish until Mercury Lighthouse shone up at him. There wasn't much else he could do with them for now.

Amiti went through everything else he had packed, including both what he was currently wearing and would wear tomorrow over again in his mind. He then physically repacked all of the items, minus the three on the bed, as if there were an optimum way of arranging things. He found menial tasks to do in his room until it was dark outside the window, wary of his next encounter with Mia, and still uncomfortable with trying to go speak to Nowell.

He sat on Rief's firm, narrow bed doing nothing for a long time, reminded briefly of the three days he'd spent hiding on the ship in Belinsk. He'd refused to go anywhere beyond the end of the pier for fear of being recognized by a veteran guard, or Sveta herself- as if the queen made nightly rounds in her harbour. He'd been hiding. And then he'd done it again: spending five days sitting, terrified and shivering, in Mercury Lighthouse. He'd been afraid again that Mia or Piers would come exploring the structure while he was asleep, like the lighthouse was just someplace where people went walking at night. It all seemed so foolish now, so stupid. Juvenile.

Amiti was wearing the ring again, spinning it, when Nowell opened his door.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were asleep." But he had a candle burning- no, nevermind. He didn't say that, just looked up at where her face was peering in past the door. Amiti didn't know why he remained silent, he should have said something before she tried ducking away again, but Nowell spared him the anxiety. "Can I... Can we talk?" He hesitated.

"If you want." Nodding before he stood up, Amiti cleared away the knife and flask, setting them just inside the top of the sack before pulling the drawstring. He then lifted the bag off the bed and set it down onto the floor. There wasn't really enough room for him to swing the desk chair out, and he'd only lit the one candle next to the bed. They could both sit on the narrow mattress.

One of her braids was partly undone, the tie missing from the other as she slowly finger-combed her cerulean hair and sat down on the bed. She was dressed for sleep, a long white flannel night gown stretched down to her slippered feet, loosely sectioned around the waist so it wasn't just a straight fall from shoulders to floor. The front was done up under her chin with laces made of blue ribbon, the strands taught and tied into a neat bow beneath her chin. There was some very small detailing along the ruffled cuffs which covered her palms, blue stars and lines picked out in thick threads. She was holding something in one hand as she sat down next to him, still pulling her hair out of the tight braid on the side closest to to him.

"This is for you." She held out the something, looking at him at the same time.

"Thank you." Taking it, she'd handed him a tightly folded piece of dark blue cloth, something Amiti unfolded a few times to reveal a lighter layer of the same colour. The entire thing was no more than a hand thick, but it was several long. Flipping the cloth over he saw that the darker fabric was supposed to be the front. A detailed pattern of ice crystals was embroidered there, each prism done with different shades of blue and grey, dancing around the Mercury Clan crest in the middle. Like the version on his ring, there was a large water drop falling into a stylized ripple. Was that silver thread? Where had she gotten something like that? The entire pattern caught the light when he moved it... Nowell spoke up before he could say anything.

"It's too hot to keep your hair down in Ei-Jei, but I thought you'd want something more formal to wear around your head." More formal, and more comfortable too. The linen bandana he wore here did its job, but it was ratty now and had begun to fray. This one was made from soft wool, very soft, not like the kind used for cloaks and sweaters and socks. The stitches were very neat too, meaning she'd put a lot of care into doing it right. "So you're all packed?"

Looking up from the gift in his hands, Amiti was smiling until he saw Nowell nudging the large sack with her ankle.

"Yes. There isn't much more for me to do."

"And you're leaving tomorrow." She'd switched her attention over to the other part of her hair, his eyes watching as she quickly pulled apart the three portions. She was running her fingers over the locks quickly though, like she was trying to scratch at them, not smooth them out carefully for sleep. He was tempted to stop her but kept his hands in his lap, not volunteering anything as Nowell abruptly stopped what she was doing and dropped her hands into her lap, turning a guarded look on him.

"You haven't yelled at me." She stated simply. Amiti answered slowly, unsure of what that expression meant.

"Your mother's asleep, I wouldn't-"

"I mean all week." She interrupted, and now she looked upset, watching him with dark blue eyes that he was having trouble reading. "You haven't yelled at me all week." Then Nowell looked away, watching the wall. "I would hate me if I was you." Guilt made her voice very quiet, Amiti aware that he should say something, agree with her, get angry. He'd screamed at her in shock before, but he hadn't come and properly taken her to task yet for the lie. There had been no lecturing or disappointment, no drawing out of apologies. Amiti could empathize that far: he wasn't disappointed that she hadn't apologized because he hadn't given her a chance to. Was that was this was?

There were a few minutes of silence as he thought about all of this, Amiti watching his feet while Nowell stared at the wall. He kept moving his fingers over the front of the bandana though, feeling the stitches and watching that silver thread glitter in the candle light. Folding it carefully over his fingers a few times, he sat up again where he'd been resting his elbows on his knees, then looked at her profiled face.

"You were right." It wasn't easy to admit, but he said it in a hushed voice, like whispering the words would make them better. "About me. I was running away." She looked at him, and her face said she was sad. Not crying, just sad. "I could have sent word to my friends and told them what had happened before I came here. I could have recovered in Tonfon and then gone to see Baghi instead. But I was a coward. I just ran." Running his thumb over the crest again, Amiti looked down at the two symbols; the one on the cloth and the other clinging to his finger. "Maybe I did want Paithos to send me away. Not like this, but just away for a little while. Out of the city."

Nowell's hand was on his wrist, he noticed it as soon as she touched him but couldn't come up with a response. He wanted to jerk his hand away almost as badly as he wanted her to keep holding on. Was he going to be mad or was he going to move on? Her actions weren't something he could just forgive, but Amiti already knew he wasn't going to gain anything by holding on to the anger. He didn't want to hate her. He didn't have the right to it either, not after running away, not after refusing to ask her anything about his city. All this time Amiti had kept himself from ever broaching the subject of Ayuthay first, months and months of just not wanting to know. So no, if he was going to be mad at her then he'd have to stay mad at himself, and Amiti couldn't function like that any more.

"I'm sorry..." She said quietly, breaking him from his thoughts as she turned a little to face him, one leg pulled up on the thin bed while they kept their hands together. Amiti hadn't felt himself reach out and touch her hand where it was holding his wrist, but he didn't pull away.

"We were both wrong." But he did was move down the bedside until his knee was almost touching hers, until they were very close together. Nowell brushed his wrist with her thumb and he watched her solemn face move back and forth between different emotions. Sadness, guilt, fear? Why the last one? "I forgive you..." No, he wasn't going to scream at her. He'd find some other way to deal with the anger, he wasn't going to let it build.

"But I-" She didn't look like she believed him, her eyes widening a little as her face twisted like she was in pain, fighting tears. "_How...?_"

"Because I _want_ to..." So he was going to try, and he let it get easier when she reached up and touched his face. Her hands were warm.

"_Please forgive me..._" Nowell whispered the words so quietly that he couldn't have heard them without being this close. He'd slipped his hand out of her grasp so he could use it to brace himself on the bed, leaning towards her just a little bit. His other hand was still holding onto hers though, her fingers curled tightly in his sleeve. He heard her take a deep, shaky breath, saw her lips pinch tight as she swallowed nervously, working up the nerve for something while her eyes flickered across his face. He knew what was coming.

"I will."

And then she kissed him.

* * *

**RAWR. This chapter just got way too long, so, alas! I must do what I hate and break up a scene right in the middle. xD I hope this and next chapter doesn't get me chased out of the fandom...**

**But really, if I hadn't split the chapter here it would've been like 12 pages long that's like... 6000 words o_o**

**Either way: _onwards! _Final chapter on Wednesday!**


	11. I'm Going Home

**The Long Road Back, Time, Perfect.**

**Last chapter? I think so. I'm irritated that I had to split a scene RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE, but there was really no better transition/break to be had, so I'm sorry. Bleh. Stupid chapter length.**

**Don't worry, there's nothing vulgar in here. Unless you have something against awesome crack-pairings- in which case you are (sort of) _dead_ to me! But no, really, I find it so weird that I like this pairing, and I do: I _love_ this pairing. At least Second-Cousins aren't actually illegal? It's right on that line, not one I've ever come close to when Shipping (with the exception of Star Ocean three, but they never actually SAY if those two're related or not...). Oh well!**

**Last chapter, enjoy!**

* * *

_**Imil**_

I'm Going Home

Forgiving someone was... difficult, and it usually depended on what wrong had been committed. A kiss did not fix everything that had led up to it, a caress did not make things better. But kisses helped and caresses felt good- it was hard to deny them.

Amiti saw it coming, welcomed it, but that didn't mean he really grasped what it meant. Nowell's free hand was still holding the side of his face, soft lips over his and a very warm body touching his shoulder. The exchange was brief, but the moment still felt long, like it lingered after it was supposed to be gone. Her face was close to his, retreating just far enough so she could rest her head on his shoulder if she wanted to, but she didn't. She also stopped moving back before she was all the way gone, lingering.

"Nowell..." His voice felt husky. He couldn't remember what he'd been thinking about.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-" And she was very quiet, embarrassed. But why apologize? He didn't notice his hand moving until he saw his thumb brush over her lips, felt her breath against his fingers before she closed her eyes.

This time he kissed _her_, aware of a tremble that echoed out from her chest, but it wasn't from tears or crying. She was hanging on to his sleeve with one hand as he leaned in a little more, eyes closed. She broke the kiss with a gasp, biting one of her lips gently, and he tried not to smile at her for it, retreating so she could sit up again from where she'd fallen back a little.

"...I'm leaving tomorrow." He watched her face as he said the words, his fingertips still grazing her jaw before they stroked the edge of her nightgown's high neck. He knew he really didn't need to say anything else, they felt done talking. He watched the emotions slowly play across her face in the amber light, the fear and the apprehension, but no guilt this time. Amiti wondered why he was so calm when he felt that hand on his sleeve start to pull, drawing him closer to her as he set his weight on one arm and slipped the other around her waist to hold her side.

She moved into his lap, or he moved her, he didn't know, but they had to be quiet. Absolutely _quiet..._ and beyond that one cautionary thought Amiti's mind was completely silent. He wasn't thinking, he didn't want to plan, he just wanted to fall head-first into the haze that was consuming his head. It was a heat that was came from somewhere indescribable and focused all his attention on what he was sensing right now, here, from her.

The fabric of her nightgown was soft and warm against his face, and it smelled like her too. Amiti felt his eyes close instantly, taking a deep breath to get more of that smell while her hands stroked his head, tugging off the bandana for getting in the way. They were facing each other, Amiti's arms wrapped around her back and hands on either side of her spine, fingers spread and feeling what he could through the thick flannel. If he dipped his head down, his chin was just against her bosom- more flannel in the way- but he could still feel her there, hear a heartbeat against his cheek.

They traded words, not many, just a few soft things to fill the silence. Nowell gasped a little when he was too liberal with searching through the fabric for her, Amiti slowing down and whispering to her when that happened, letting her guide him instead. She let him tug the nightgown up, not very high, and she tensed over him each time he grazed her leg, fingers trailing down her calf and steadily higher, exploring the curve of her knee while she kissed his cheek and leaned against him. He never saw the paleness of her thigh, but coaxed her gently until his palm could slide down the smooth, warm curves. His fingers teased the bow under her throat open, and between several careful, lingering kisses he tugged the ribbon carefully out through the eyes, both of them quiet while her breath hitched with each pull and whisper. But she liked it when his fingertips could slip down the back of her neck and start to reach over her shoulders. She shivered when his lips found the dips and curves along her throat.

It was the same thing when she murmured in his ear, teasing him for always being cold in Imil while dragging her fingers through his hair. The ribbon ends were growing longer the further he unlaced them, prepared for a witty answer once he pulled the final lengths through, kissing her neck again while his sweater and shirt finally gave up against her tugging. She delayed by bringing her hands to his face and tilting his head back for a kiss, hitching his shirt up a little while he hooked his arm around her waist to keep her steady. She had warm hands, very warm, Amiti smiling as he felt them run up his sides and back- but then Nowell jumped.

As in, jumped away from him. She would have hit the floor in a heap if not for his arm around her.

"Nowell?" What- what was that? She startled him by jumping like that, her body rigid, hands on his arms where they'd flown away from his skin. Her face looked scared, or was it sad? What was-? No, he knew what was wrong. Nowell was holding one of his wrists tightly now, not trying to hurt him, but he slowly unwound his arm from around her just the same. He watched as she carefully picked herself up off of him, standing for a few moments in the candle-light: silent and sorry.

"...Does it still hurt?" Amiti watched her fingers slowly bring wayward locks of cerulean hair back under control, missing some but getting most. Her narrow, budded lips were red and puffy now in the poor light, almost swollen, but the rest of the flush and marks were quickly hidden away under the night gown's collar as her hands deftly re-laced the front.

"No, not for a while." It hurt right now though, just not the way she meant. His back hadn't hurt in a long time.

"Can I...?" The last time someone had asked that it had been Mia, and Amiti had refused her sharply. It was a test of will not to have the same response here with Nowell. He was frustrated, suddenly, keenly frustrated. He would have been angry but now he was suddenly starting to think again, and thinking told him that there was nowhere to direct his anger, so he was just irritated and annoyed instead.

Amiti took it as an excuse to hide his face and not say anything when he hooked one arm up behind his head and grabbed the collar of both his sweater and shirt. He pulled fiercely, with enough strength to leave a slight stretch in the cloth as it came off his shoulders and fell to the floor between his feet. The bed shifted a little as she climbed back on and crawled around behind him, her movements careful since the mattress was so narrow.

Maybe she could cool down that fast, but it wasn't so easy for him. Not after that, not after blocking everything out so it was just her. Just the taste, the sight, the _smell_ of her. He couldn't change his focus that fast, wasn't even sure if he wanted to. It was emasculating to watch her just fix her appearance and move on to something else like this. Like he hadn't done anything.

Amiti had his eyes resting on his palm heels, just holding his face like that and making himself breathe slowly while Nowell looked over the scars. He could feel her fingers probing the over-lapping arcs and lash-lines. Suddenly he didn't like her touch anymore. The scars that hadn't all healed up the same way: some had dips and ridges to them, others had been ply'd down and smoothed away by psynergy. But they were all visible, clear white marks against his skin that laced up the back of his neck and reached out across his shoulders, he felt her calloused hands run slowly down the backs of his arms too, where a few of the mercy-blows had landed. He could feel her breath on his neck and let it goad him because she didn't mean to do it and he couldn't do anything _about_ it.

He just tried to ignore them, both the scars and the girl. Right now he was wishing he could will her out of the room, sort of like he'd done with the rents in his skin when he'd tried to wish away the scars. He had _other_ scars too, if she was interested! Not just ones from Ayuthay. They were all over his arms and sides from the Eclipse- even some from Kaocho soldiers. Really if she wanted something interesting to look at, then why the four-pronged rent across the side of his chest? Yes, that was what happened when you fought a disoriented beastman in Apollo sanctum. But did any of those things matter? Those scars? _No_, just the-

"I'm sorry." She wrapped her arms around him from behind, Amiti rubbing his face before he slowly sat up, eyes closed. He understood the double-meaning to her words, feeling her scoot up until her body was flush with his, one leg on either side. An apology for the pain he'd gone through during his exile, and another one for hiding behind him now. It was a no, that this wasn't going to happen between them now, not tonight, maybe not at all- but thoughts like that made him frustrated. Glancing down at her legs, she had her knees bent slightly, the night gown wide enough that both calves were covered nearly to the ankle still. He could have been mad, but settled on frustration instead for now. Nowell had one hand resting on his bare shoulder, the other arm curled around his torso and holding him close.

"We shouldn't. It's alright." He said it softly and made himself mean it, touching the hand on his shoulder until she let him pull it away and kiss the back of it carefully. Nowell was quiet, but he felt her move back there, resting her forehead against his hair as she took a deep breath. He felt her sigh brush down his back and across his shoulders, it was teasing in a way that he resented, but at the same time, he liked it.

Amiti closed his eyes and made himself enjoy this, reminding himself that tomorrow he was leaving. After this he would spend the next few weeks cold, on board a ship bound for Belinsk, with no one but Eoleo's crew to keep him company. So this was good. This was very good. For several minutes of this Amiti kept himself quiet, until he didn't have to convince himself anymore and he started to enjoy it again. He leaned back against her, not too hard or far, but enough that when she inched her face forward over his shoulder she could kiss his cheek softly. He liked that... He even liked the silence that followed, the several long minutes of nothing but listening to her breathe behind him.

"You should go back to bed." He finally whispered. She had her chin resting on the curve of his neck, her breaths growing long and slow. Moving carefully, he turned a little and stroked her jaw softly with one hand. Nowell's eyes were almost closed, but he felt her sluggishly shake her head no. "Why not?" He asked, and then softly brushed his lips over her cheek.

"I'm staying." She answered sleepily, taking a deep breath before her arms unwillingly dislodged themselves from around his torso. He felt cold now, contrasting the cool air in the room with the places where her hands had been. Amiti had to stand as Nowell moved herself around, pulling at the bedding and then kicking her feet under the blankets before she settled down, but he lingered near the bed-side and she sat up quickly when he turned away- snatching his wrist.

"Come." She gave a light tug on his arm as she said it, Amiti relenting slowly as he sat down on what little space remained on the bed so he could remove his boots. He wasn't sure where he would have gone to sleep, maybe her room, but this sounded better. This was tempting a line, but no more than what they'd already been doing before.

There really wasn't room for two people on such a small bed, but it suited him right now. And her. Nowell wasn't shy about curling up tight against him, Amiti wrapping his arms snugly around her while her fingers gently explored over his exposed shoulder and chest. The caress was gentle, not thorough, and he nudged her with his nose a few times before she obliged him with a kiss. It felt good, this felt good. He closed his eyes and felt... warm.

_"...I love you."_

* * *

Somehow, his eyes opened before dawn. Not long before, but just. Nowell was still asleep, her back to him but touching closely, one of his arms trapped under her side. There was the temptation to stay. It wasn't as strong as it should have been, but it was still there coaxing him back down onto the warm bed... next to the warm girl...

But he got up anyways, taking great pains not to wake her as he slipped out of bed and got dressed. The abandoned shirts and his bandana were quickly scooped up off the floor, Amiti taking the old wrap as well since it didn't feel like something he should leave. Pulling open the sack revealed a forgotten, but more suitable, keepsake.

Either Nowell was really still asleep, or she was feigning it. Amiti didn't want to think about it too hard either way, but just in case...

"I'll miss you." He said the words as softly as he could, slipping the sheathed Ayuthan dagger between her curled fingers and gently folding them around the blue and yellow enamelling. His lips brushed her temple just before he relinquished the weapon. He didn't own another blade save that one, but it was alright, he'd make due. He grabbed the last of his things and crept downstairs.

Mia was up already, the sky still dark and the sun just starting to finger the horizon. Amiti stopped when he saw her standing with a mug between her hands, looking down at the small fire burning steadily in the massive hearth. He was going to say something when he reached the bottom, but when she looked at him he knew better.

She had that sleepless look that was usually the result of a birth, but more apt for a death. Her dark hair was tousled and left in ratty tangles, and he knew she'd been home last night. Nowell had known too: they'd been quiet because of it. But now Mia's hard jade eyes were set in dark circles, staring him down before she glanced upstairs. Her mouth was a twisted black line before she turned back to the hearth, silent. She knew, or at least she thought she did, that Alex's son had been with her daughter.

Training failed him. He didn't know what to say, because it didn't matter what he said: she wouldn't believe him. She would believe Nowell, she would trust her child, but she would not trust _him_ again. When he did speak the words were ineffective, and she probably didn't even hear him.

"I'll give Rief your love." Get out. She didn't say anything out-loud, didn't have to, because she wanted him to get out This wasn't how he wanted to leave, but he couldn't argue, and took it anyways. Amiti put on his jacket and gloves in the mudroom rather than on the main floor, said his good-byes to the place that had sheltered him all winter, spring, and summer long from outside, hand on the door instead of on the mantle.

He said good-bye.

* * *

"Permission to come aboard, Captain?"

"_Y'RE LATE!_" He was not, but Amiti smiled as Eoleo's scruffy face appeared over the ship's rail, scowling down at him and pointing fiercely at the gang-way so he could get up on deck. It was still twilight, still cold from the night, but the sky was growing lighter by the minute in the east. By the time Amiti was up the pirate king had a hand out and gave his arm a firm shake, speaking calmly.

"Go put your stuff down in the hold. We can wait till the sun's properly up before we go, give you time to say good-bye."

"Oh, no." Amiti shook his head, trying to smile as Eoleo looked puzzled. "Please, we can go as soon as your men are ready. I've already made my fare-wells." The pirate studied him a moment longer, but Amiti didn't change his mind and all the man could do about it was relent or stall. Eoleo hated stalling.

"Whatever you say, kid." And then he turned, broad hands on his hips and a lung-ful of air at the ready before he boomed at the few early-birds on deck.

"_All hands on deck!_ Get up those lines and weigh anchor, you lazy scum bags! And none of this '_it's too early'_ bullshit either you whoring drunks! I oughta-!" And on and on, Eoleo was never short on insults and clever threats. The pre-dawn calm was dispelled as soon as the pirates heard their captain's thundering shouts. Amiti kept out of the crew's way as men in purple vests and trousers came scrambling up from the hold to obey the orders, waiting until the stairs were clear before he could vanish into the belly of the ship.

For the time that it was chaos up on deck, Amiti was down staking out a place to sleep. You couldn't be choosey on a ship, and he just made sure there was no signs of ownership on the shelf where he knew he'd be sleeping before slinging his bag up onto it. Eoleo would put him to work- not as hard as his original voyage up to Imil, but it wouldn't be a pleasure-cruise either. Binding the old linen bandana around his forehead, he was careful to fold and bury the one from Nowell deep inside the sack where it was the least likely to be pulled out or get wet. He wasn't going to ruin it on this voyage.

They were already well under-weigh when he came back out into the fresh air, his boots clunking up the wooden steps before he emerged into the pale morning light. The sun rose quickly when you travelled east, the only thing faster was Eoleo's crew.

"That was quick." He found Eoleo at the helm, red patterns of psynergy thrumming through the wood and siphoning off enough of his energy to propel the vessel through the water. The Mars Adept was shouting directions from his perch on the stern's high platform, sending his men up and down the lines like birds flitting through tree branches.

"'course, you can't beat my dad's old gal..." He sounded almost sentimental as he said the words, running his hand along the aged wheel. Then: "_All eyes open for ice-bergs you blind sons of-!_"

Amiti tuned the curses out, a habit he'd acquired during the Eclipse and had thought he'd forgotten until just now. Walking past Eoleo, he stepped up against the ship's stern, hand up and holding one of the lines that ran from the masts to the very back of the vessel. There was a dingy in the green water behind them, but more importantly there was Imil's harbour already shrinking off into the distance. He knew the town from the top of the lighthouse, not down from this angle escaping east. The buildings were a jumble to him, the hills and lanes obscured by perspective. It was like he'd never even been there.

"_Hail Mercury to the port side!_" The cry was ceremonial, an old tradition for safe travel through the ice fields. "_Queen of the seas and mother of the sky!_" Amiti turned and looked to his right, north, at the peninsula where Mercury Lighthouse towered proud above the ocean. There were more lines to Eoleo's declaration, it was really quite long. "_Whosoever scorns the Goddess of the Waters will be judged by She!" _That long arm of cold, ice-blue tile stood stretching into the heavens, like an arm ripping up out of the tundra, with a hand fisted high at the top clutching the radiant beacon. _"As be his brothers, his sons, his fathers and his crew!"_

Someone was ringing the ship's bell, more tradition, and Amiti stepped down off the rail once he couldn't see the empty pier anymore, looking up as the lighthouse came ominously into view, the tower had cast its shadow across the water that they needed to sail through to go east. The ship was quiet for those few moments in the dark, only the wind speaking as it blew first in one direction, then another as the ship oriented itself over the deepening water. Then they reached the sunlight on the other side. Mercury had heard Eoleo's declaration, and now she would hold him to it... Or something like that.

"Oi! Amiti."

"Yes, Captain?" Turning away from the edge as Eoleo spoke to him, everyone had to refer to the pirate as _'Captain'_ on his vessel. It was reality, not formality.

"I want you on the bow: you see any ice bergs comin' I want you to cuss those icy bastards outta my way, y'here?" Ah, right. It was growing late in the summer, the ice flows wouldn't be bad until the autumn weather really hit, but there was always that threat, that possibility of ice appearing where and when it shouldn't.

"I'll do my best, sir." It had taken both him and Rief together to _'dissuade'_ the ice during the Eclipse, but that had been just weeks into spring. Amiti could do it alone this time, and he turned to take his position when Eoleo called him again.

"_Oi-oi-oi!_"

"Yes?"

"Heading, spill." Oh? That was a break in conduct- the captain never asked what the heading was, he gave it. Amiti didn't say anything, he knew better, or at least he knew what Eoleo was thinking. Quickly climbing down from the helm he grabbed another set of meshed ropes, making sure his hand was in there good before he was up on the railing, actually on top of it. He wasn't afraid of falling into the frigid green water spiralling past the ship: he'd just get wet and cold. He'd survived that before.

He watched the town begin to fade over the western horizon, could see the water shimmering and flashing behind him where the sun was rising. Why was he smiling? Why did he feel the need to stare up the lighthouse? Either way he was and he did, and in a show of high spirits that should have sent his stomach into his throat, Amiti let go of the ropes and turned with both feet on the wide railing. The slightest lurch from the vessel and he'd be in the water.

"Home!" He shouted. His hand caught the ropes again without incident, and now he was facing east trying to shield his eyes with one hand. "Home by way of Belinsk, that's your heading!"

"_Git on the bow!_" Yessir, "And you two-_ keep swabbing! _I want that deck so clean my great-grandma could eat off it! _That's right!_ _GREAT**-**__Grandma Obaba!"_

Taking his position on the bow, Amiti was still smiling and knew he shouldn't have been. But Mia and Nowell were shrinking, shrinking, not fading out or away, but getting smaller and losing their place. He would keep Nowell with him, but the guilty feeling with Mia that morning was already gone. He was going home. Even if there was war, even if there was fighting, even the if return would be more difficult than when he'd left, and even if all of his mistakes were going to be remembered and thrown back at him to face...

He was going _home._

___**[To Be Continued in Part 3]**_  


* * *

**I really don't generally like rap... But that new P-Diddy-Dirty-Monkey whatever his name is now song... That song's really good. I could easily listen to it without Diddy in there, but the chorus is just SO perfect. I almost had Amiti quoting it but that would've just been corny and wrong.**

**BWAHAHAHA, Part 2 complete! **** This story was officially finished (barring many rounds of proof-reading from Sunny) the Friday before Barai Chp. 6 was posted.**

******Unfortunately... Part 3 is like, not even close. It _was_, but... revision's a bitch. Plus, because of where I am with finals and papers and stresses I have absolutely no room in my tiny, tiny brain to focus on getting it done right now. Please refer to my profile for a slightly-more coherent description of what's going on. If anyone wants to Beta-read part three then I'd definitely love to hear from you!**

**So! Until then- Happy finals, everyone!**


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